Twisted Faerie Tales

Author’s Note: Many thanks to Deb, Mary and Shannon for looking over this story for me. I know you have all been waiting eagerly for an update to this series, and your patience will be rewarded with not just one new faerie tale, but two!

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It was only supposed to be a game.

Much like the Tri-Wizard Tournament, there were going to be challenges set up for each year. Only it wasn’t at all like the Tri-Wizard Tournament, because these challenges were only going to be to test the students’ practical knowledge in the lessons they had learned that year. They weren’t going to be dangerous… supposedly.

So then why was Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, in a cursed sleep and hidden somewhere in the school? And furthermore, why was Harry Potter supposed to find him before he stayed that way forever?

True love of course…well, that and the Hogwarts House Cup!

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Two Weeks Earlier…

“Stop being a prat,” Harry groaned as he lazily ran his hands through his friend’s soft platinum hair. If anyone had told him a year ago that he would become close friends with Draco Malfoy of all people, Harry would have cursed them into oblivion. And yet here he was, resting peacefully by the lake – well, sort of peacefully – with the blond he’d loathed for years. The war had changed everyone, Harry included, but Draco’s transformation from Slytherin prat to close friend had been the most surprising of all.

“Call me names all you like, Potter, but you’re the one who will be bowing down to me when I win that cup,” Draco replied with a triumphant smirk.

It had just been announced that this year Hogwarts would hold a unique game, one that would hopefully relieve the stress and sorrow that the war had created and bring about some healthy competition between the four houses, all while rewarding students for their hard work and studies through the year. Each house would participate and select four students from each year to compete. It was up to the Head of that house to determine which students would be included once the nominations had been placed.

There would then be four pre-determined challenges for each year and the winner of each challenge would get a point. The house with the most points at the end of the Academic Tournament would win the House Cup. The behavioral point system was null for this year, not that it mattered much since there was less than a month left of classes and it had served its purpose of keeping students in line throughout the year already.

The challenges would be difficult, but by no means harmful or life threatening. They were simply meant to test each student’s practical knowledge of a particular lesson, spell, creature or potion. Harry thought it was a much better way to prepare people for the real wizarding world outside the gates of Hogwarts. Hermione thought it was fine so long as it didn’t interfere with her studies or the final exams and Ron thought it was bound to be a blast and couldn’t wait to be selected for the seventh year team. The Golden Trio, after all, were practically shoe-ins for the tasks considering what they’d been through so far.

“I don’t think I’m entering my name,” Harry mused, staring up at the puffy white clouds drifting above them as Draco lounged with his head in Harry’s lap. He was soaking up the spring sun and the scent of blossoming flowers and didn’t notice his friend stir below him.

“What?” he asked, looking incredulous.

“I don’t want to participate. I’d rather just watch the others,” Harry explained.

“Potter, you have to enter your name,” Draco pouted. “It’ll be no fun winning if you don’t.”

Harry rolled his eyes and offered Draco an indulgent smile. “You’re not going to win whether I play or not,” he quipped. “The Gryffindors are far superior in every way.” He knew he was just goading the Slytherin along, but it was still fun to watch Draco’s lips purse into a sour expression and his eyes narrow with disdain. Harry reveled in the fact that he was the only one who could ever pull even the slightest of emotions to the surface of the blond, but what that meant he’d yet to discover.

A scoffing laugh was the only rebuttal Harry received for several moments as Draco settled back into his place. Harry stared down and watched as the vivid expressions of just a moment before melted back into his usual mask of indifference. “I’ll beat Weasley,” he muttered at last and Harry couldn’t conceal a soft smile.

“Probably,” Harry placated, “but he might not be the Gryffindor you face off with.” Draco excelled in potions of course, and Ron was rubbish, so most likely Draco would be pitted against Hermione, since the Head of House got to select which challenge their students would compete in. Harry knew that McGonagall was clever enough not to put Ron in the potions challenge, and that was surely where Slughorn would put Draco.

“I could beat Granger too,” Draco added, as if gleaning Harry’s thoughts from his eyes.

“Whatever you say, Malfoy,” Harry snickered.

“You don’t think I can?” Draco challenged. Their whole friendship had been made up of light-hearted bickering and long talks. When the school year started, Harry was exhausted from the war and from burying so many friends. He didn’t have the energy to keep up his malicious tendencies toward the blond, especially not after Draco’s parents were both found guilty of war mongering. They were both spared the Dementors Kiss and put on house arrest only after Harry’s testimony and insistence. He had more pull with the Ministry after the events of the war than Harry would have liked to admit, but it did him some good once in awhile.

When he first saw Draco at the Welcoming Feast, he’d been surprised when the blond had strolled right over and thanked him for his actions in court. Right in front of Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindor table, Draco had thanked Harry, apologized for being a git and offered his hand in friendship.

Harry had recalled the first time that same hand had been stretched out to him for the same purpose. That time Harry had rejected it and possibly caused his life more strife in the process, but this time he took it and offered the Slytherin a seat at their table, which he politely accepted.

It was a slow process getting the other Gryffindors to accept Draco as not pure evil. Ron especially, but in the end the Malfoy charm had won out and these days he spent more time with Harry and his friends than with anyone from Slytherin. It was fun having the blond around, someone to share his more cunning Slytherin tendencies with, who wouldn’t judge him harshly for it; someone who understood what it was like to have to live up to lofty expectations and the consequences of letting everyone down.

Harry could see he and Draco being friends for a long time to come. Friends like Finnegan or Thomas tended to drift in and out of his life, but Draco was just as steadfast as Ron and Hermione had been over the years and Harry could always use more friends.

The problem, because of course there is always a problem, was that Harry had begun getting more than just ‘friendly’ feelings when he was with Draco. Something within him stirred awake when Draco spoke, or when he was just in the room. He did everything he could think of to repress the feelings. Surely Draco wouldn’t want any part of the dreams Harry had been having as of late, and he wanted to keep the blonds friendship more than anything.

So, every day, Harry struggled to keep his affection close to his chest where it belonged and instead tried to focus on other things that he might use to distract his heart.

“I think that both you and Mione are advanced in potions and it would be a brilliant competition to watch,” Harry answered skillfully. If spending time with the Slytherin did anything for Harry it was to teach him how to be careful when he worded his thoughts. He would show favoritism toward neither of his friends, especially since he suspected that was what the Slytherin was goading him into.

Draco merely huffed, not able to pick apart any insult on either end from Harry’s answer. “You seriously aren’t entering?” he asked after a moment. “What if there’s a flying challenge?”

“If you’d like me to race you to the Snitch, we can have a go right now,” Harry offered. “I don’t need a tournament to beat you.”

A year ago such a statement would have been said with venom and received in kind, but now, Draco simply beamed at him and leapt up gracefully, pulling Harry to his feet at well. Harry barely had time to brush the dirt from his trousers before Draco was running. “Last one to the pitch has to do the other’s Transfigurations essay!” Draco called over his shoulder as he bolted toward the Quidditch field.

“Cheating Slytherin!” Harry shouted after him as he ran to catch up and beat the blond there.

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“The names are being announced at dinner tonight,” Draco chimed as he took his seat next to Harry at breakfast.

“How do you know?” Harry asked, his brow creasing with confusion.

“Snape’s portrait told me,” Draco replied with a shrug. They still hadn’t found anyone to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, so Snape’s portrait was instructing the class. Draco often lingered behind to talk to his old mentor, but Harry had no idea how the blond would have talked to him that morning already.

“When?” Ron piped in, obviously curious about the same thing.

“Last night,” Draco replied before he could stop himself, his cheeks heating up slightly. Harry eyed him curiously, wondering what about that statement should make his friend blush. When he silently inquired his friend about it, Draco simply sent him an image of the painting hanging up in his bedroom. That was where he’d been keeping it and he thought Ron would tease him if he knew. Harry assured him that he wouldn’t tell the redhead anything about it.

“Er… last night?” Ron asked, making a rather disgusted face. “That’s sort of weird, Mate. I don’t get how you could spend so much time with the greasy git, myself.”

“He was Draco’s godfather,” Harry snapped in defense, and there was a slight simultaneous gasp from their little grouping. Harry didn’t often call Draco by his given name, even after months of close friendship; it was just odd to call him anything other than ‘Malfoy’ after years of habit. But that wasn’t why they were reacting so strongly, or at least not why Ron and Hermione were.

They were obviously taken aback by Harry’s biting tone, but he couldn’t help it. He knew how painful it was to lose a godfather in battle, how hard it was to lose a dear mentor and it was one of the many things he had in common with Draco. He couldn’t bear to hear his friend’s lingering loss disparaged by another friend who should rightly know better. If Harry had a portrait of Sirius to discuss his troubles with, he would probably talk to it more than was prudently acceptable as well.

Still, it was probably the first time Harry outwardly defended Draco against his friends and for a moment he felt guilty, as if he should always stand up for Ron over Draco because Ron was there first, but after Draco gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze under the table, Harry could not allow himself to back down.

Luckily he didn’t have to. “Sorry,” Ron muttered and grimaced slightly. “I keep forgetting that.”

“It’s fine,” Draco replied gracefully and Harry sighed. A year ago that same exchange would have been a catastrophe. It was amazing what could happen in so little time.

The remainder of the meal was only awkward for a moment until Ron began gabbing about whom would be chosen for the tournament. “Harry, Hermione and I obviously from our year,” he began, “who do you think the fourth will be?” he asked Harry.

“Um… I don’t know, Ron,” he replied and Draco gave him a knowing glance that the other two were too preoccupied to pick up on. Harry hadn’t told anyone else that he wasn’t putting his name in for the running. He figured it would be easier just to let the names be read off tonight and let everyone get over the fact that he wasn’t selected. “Seamus, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Ron agreed with a nod. “Dean’s best in Defense, but no one could beat you, so I doubt they’ll select him.”

“Maybe there won’t be a Defense challenge,” Harry reasoned, hoping that there wasn’t. He would feel quite guilty if there was and Gryffindor lost because he hadn’t wanted to participate. He’d had his fill of fighting for a goal, at least for a little while. He was looking forward to these last few weeks of school where everything was so cut and dry and he didn’t have to make any big, life-changing decisions. After school was out, the Ministry would waste no time in scooping him up and throwing him head first into the Auror program. He would take what peace and quiet he could get. “Neville’s brilliant at Herbology. I bet he’ll get chosen.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

The question was Draco’s, but no one else heard him ask because the words were silently slipped into Harry’s mind like a secret note in class. Over the last few months, Draco had been teaching Harry everything he knew about Legilimency and Occlumency – which was quite a lot actually - and Harry found him a far better teacher than Snape had ever been. Recently, Harry had been doing so well that Draco taught him how to project, so that they could speak silently to one another. It was quite hard, but Harry was slowly mastering it.

“He’ll be disappointed,” Harry silently replied, trying to listen to Ron go on about how brilliant Neville was in Herbology, better than any of the Ravenclaws even. “Anyway, he’ll be fine once he gets selected. That’s all he really cares about anyhow.”

Draco closed his eyes briefly and gave Harry a curt nod. The Slytherin was the only one Harry had ever confided his love-loss between he and Ron with. He certainly could never bring these things up with Hermione who dated Ron off and on –they were on at the moment. He told Draco about all the times Ron abandoned him because of misunderstandings or because he wasn’t as famous as Harry, or because things just got too difficult. Draco never said a word about what he thought of Ron, he only let Harry vent, but it gave the blond some insight to Harry’s sometimes distant behavior toward his redheaded friend.

“But you told me,” Draco noted silently and Harry nodded but didn’t answer. In fact, that question had Harry reeling as he thought of why he only confided in one person these days. Just Draco. A faint tinge of pink crept up his neck as he thought of why that was, and he quickly closed off his thoughts as Draco had taught him to do.

The sudden mental wall between them made Draco frown, obviously confused by the other boy’s swift and decisive action, but if Draco wanted to ask him about it, he’d have to speak aloud because Harry’s mind was closed off to him for the moment and he didn’t give the blond an opportunity to speak privately with him until later that evening.

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“Why did you shut me out?” Draco hissed as they approached the Great Hall for dinner. The corridors were buzzing with excitement as the news leaked –as it always did around Hogwarts- that the tournament players would be announced that night.

“I just…I just didn’t want you prying in my head,” Harry replied. He didn’t know what else to say. ‘I didn’t want you to see how much I like you and would love to see you starkers’ didn’t quite sound right…or sane.

Draco stopped suddenly, letting the crowd rush around them and Harry had to slow down and turn back to meet up with him again, as Draco narrowed his eyes and actually scowled at him. It had been a long time since Harry had been on the receiving end of that look from Draco Malfoy.

“Is that what you think I do?” he asked, his tone biting cold. “Do you think I root around in your brain and pluck things out without your permission like a sneaky little thief?”

“No, I-” but Harry didn’t know how to explain. “I was just thinking about something…something that I’m not quite ready to share.”

Draco’s face softened slightly and he started walking again, so Harry fell into stride with him. “Okay,” he replied easily. “You will tell me eventually though, won’t you?” he asked, as if he was suddenly worried about losing his place in Harry’s life because of one tiny secret.

“It’s possible,” Harry replied, trying to turn it into a joke. “I mean, I might find a new best friend to tell instead.”

Draco didn’t think it was funny though and grabbed Harry by the wrist and pulled him back through the crowd before shoving him roughly into a tiny alcove where they remained undetected. “Potter, I am not amused.”

“Malfoy, calm down,” Harry hissed as he tried to wrench his arm from the blond’s tight grip, but Draco shook his head.

“This is important to me,” Draco replied hurriedly, as if the words would be lost forever if he didn’t get them out quickly. “You’re important…” he began, swallowing thickly before he proceeded, “to me,” he added softly, before hastily continuing his rant. “I know that sounds stupid and Hufflepuff, but it’s true. I’ve never had a friend like you before and I don’t want you ruining everything with your secret keeping.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Draco pressed against him as a student passed, trying to keep he and Harry out of sight and the movement caused Harry’s blood to rush to his groin. “You can tell me anything,” Draco continued, staring into Harry’s brilliant green eyes with a look of determination and sincerity. “After all, we’re friends now, and I would never betray a friend.”

It took Harry a moment to form a coherent response, the urge to kiss those pouting lips was nearly too much to resist. “I know,” he replied at last. “I’m just trying to process it all for myself first.”

Draco’s grip on his arms slackened and he nodded once before stepping back and away from the brunet. “I just want to make sure there are no secrets between us.”

‘I love you and want to spend every moment with you for the rest of our lives,’ Harry’s mind silently blurted, but he simply shook his head. “Nothing important,” he told the blond and they made their way toward the Great Hall once more as if the heated exchange had never occurred. However, they didn’t quite make it before the pair was interrupted again, this time by the Headmistress.

“Mr. Potter, may I have a word?” McGonagall asked, her eyes flicking skeptically towards the young Malfoy at his side. She, like so many others at the school, didn’t accept Draco’s seemingly sudden change in demeanor and loyalties and thought there was some hidden agenda to be gained by his befriending her favorite Gryffindor.

Harry knew differently though. He’d been in the blond’s mind, after all, and he’d seen the truth of what had happened to Draco in the war, how it had irrevocably changed him. He’d tasted the fear that had been so much a part of Draco’s life before the war had ended. He could understand the Slytherin’s reasoning, if not the actions themselves, for most of what Draco had done in the years preceding the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry had completely forgiven him. If Harry had been in Draco’s place, who knew what he would have done to protect the ones he loved. In their long talks together, Draco had described his anguish at having been forced to commit heinous acts with the threat that he could either torture the strangers that had been captured, or watch as Voldemort tortured his own mother.

It was clear to Harry why Draco no longer felt a connection with the other students, and why he sought out kinder, gentler souls to surround himself with in the aftermath. But it wasn’t as clear to someone without a direct link into the blond’s thoughts and memories.

But Harry couldn’t very well broadcast his knowledge to everyone else. Eventually they would all see that Draco Malfoy wasn’t the insufferable prat they had known for years, but it would take time. Harry would just have to be patient and do what he could to convince the cynics that they were wrong about his friend.

McGonagall was one of those naysayers. She looked at Harry like a son, and wanted no further harm to come to him. There had been so much pain in his life already and she wanted to shield him from whatever she suspected Draco was up to, though she had no proof whatsoever that the Slytherin was up to anything at all.

“Of course, Professor,” Harry replied and stepped toward her with Malfoy in tow.

“Alone,” she specified and Harry looked bewildered for a moment. He didn’t want to cast his friend aside, especially just after their last talk and after witnessing how vulnerable Draco felt in their friendship.

Draco took the decision out of his hands, however, and moved to stand against the far wall where he would wait for Harry to finish with the Headmistress.

“I didn’t see your name in the ballot, Harry. Did you forget the deadline?” she asked when it seemed they were out of earshot.

“No, Professor, I didn’t. I’m afraid I won’t be participating in the tournament,” Harry answered, feeling a little guilty. He knew the Gryffindors all counted on him to win whatever challenge he was given the same as he’d won the war, but just like the war, this challenge was to be a collaborative effort, only this time, Harry wanted to sit the fight out. He thought he deserved as much, but it didn’t stop him from feeling as though he was betraying his House.

“I see,” she murmured, clearly not expecting that answer. She seemed flustered and probably had an entire speech prepared about responsibility and time-management and that she’d let Harry slide this last time and get his name into the running, but now she was at a loss. “Does this have anything to do with Mr. Malfoy?”

“Draco?” Harry clarified, trying to delay, and she nodded. “No,” he responded with a furrowed brow. “Why would he have anything to do with it?”

“I thought perhaps he had coerced you into sitting on the sidelines,” she suggested, obviously hoping that were true.

“No, if anything he’s upset with me for withholding my entry because it will give him less competition,” Harry replied and then laughed lightly as he thought of their conversation out by the lake. Draco and Harry becoming friends didn’t erase either boys’ competitive spirit and Draco longed to beat Harry at something –anything, though he’d failed to reason that they would probably never be matched in the same challenges. They each excelled at entirely opposite subjects.

“That makes no sense,” she muttered unbelievingly.

“It makes sense if you’re a Slytherin,” Harry countered.

“Which you are not,” she stated as if she thought he was confused, but Harry merely shrugged. He wasn’t going to debate what percentage of green and silver blood ran through his veins in comparison to the red and gold because Harry himself had no idea. Sometimes he suspected the two very different sides of him were in perfect balance, other times they swayed one way or the other depending on his need.

When it seemed she would get no more out of Harry, McGonagall gave him a curt nod. “Very well,” she remarked bitterly, “it seems we’ll be minus a key player for Gryffindor, but I respect your decision.” By her tone, Harry gathered she didn’t respect it at all, but she’d always seemed more protective over him than she had with most of the other students. She strode past him purposefully and entered the Great Hall, while Harry grabbed Draco’s attention from around the corner.

“What did she want?” Draco asked when they fell into step beside each other once more.

“To guilt me into joining the Gryffindor team in the tournament,” Harry told him.

“Did it work?” he asked hopefully.

“If it didn’t work when you tried it, what makes you think I would have listened to her?” Harry asked, a soft smile on his lips.

“Because you trust and respect her more,” Draco replied easily, as if that were quite obvious.

“Not true,” Harry whispered, his emerald gaze willing Draco to understand he wasn’t kidding.

Draco smiled and linked arms with Harry as they pushed through the massive door to the Great Hall without another word. Sometimes words just weren’t necessary to convey how content they were together.

When they took their seats, Hermione and Ron were already there, looking anxious and excited. Only a few other students arrived after them and quickly fell into place at their own House tables. A silence fell over the hall when McGonagall stood and approached the lectern.

“As I’m sure you all know by now, tonight we’ll be announcing the players in this year’s Academic Tournament. All the submissions have been reviewed by your Heads of House and the selections have been made,” she announced.

“As I mentioned before, the tournament will consist of four challenges per year and a representative from each House will compete, with the winner gaining a point for their House. At the end of the competition, the House with the most points will be the victor of this year’s Academic Tournament. As the Gryffindor Head of House, it’s my pleasure to announce the champions for Gryffindor,” she continued to the cheers of everyone at Harry’s table. She began with the First Year’s, naming off four students Harry only vaguely knew from milling around the common room and it was the same way with the Second, Third and Fourth years called.

Harry wondered if it was normal not to know many of the younger students or if he was being a snob by not recognizing them. Hermione seemed to know them, but then she seemed to know everything about the castle and its inhabitants, but even Ron looked less clueless than Harry felt as the redhead cheered excitedly for each new name announced.

“Should I know all these people?” Harry whispered to Draco beside him and the blond only rolled his eyes.

“How are we supposed to keep up with all the new arrivals at this school, Potter?” he quipped, as if that was answer enough. “I don’t even like students from my own year, so I’m certainly not going to bother getting well acquainted with the others.”

Harry smiled and shook his head tolerantly. “But you like me,” Harry teased, more a statement than a question and Draco gave him the full weight of his gaze.

“Yes, I do,” he replied levelly. “Who would have guessed?”

Feeling his entire body warm at the blond’s simple compliment, Harry was forced to avert his gaze and close his mind off yet again. He could tell Draco noticed because there was a brush against his consciousness like a cat trying to coax him into petting it by rubbing against his leg. Harry knew better however, because though it might feel like a soft caress, he suspected Draco was just looking for holes in his defenses. “Stop that,” Harry hissed and Draco gave him dangerously narrowed eyes.

“What are you keeping from me?” he demanded, and Harry just shook his head sharply to indicate that they should discuss it later.

“…And Ginny Weasley,” McGonagall continued, naming off the Sixth Year students who would participate. Since the war interrupted the school year, and so many students missed the year altogether because of their parents’ fear to let them out of their sight, most people were repeating the year they had ended in when the battle began. It was a sore spot for many of the students that had endured Hogwarts when it was run by Death Eaters, but they were given special privileges like extra Hogsmeade weekends and private quarters when everyone else had to share to try and make up for it.

Finally Harry had someone to cheer for that he recognized and Draco looked at him oddly. “Do you still harbor feelings for the Weasel-ette?” he asked, much to Harry’s surprise.

“Ginny?” Harry asked. “Merlin, no. Why?”

“You seemed…enthusiastic to hear her name called,” Draco observed.

“I’ll be just as enthusiastic when your name is called,” Harry assured him with a placating wink.

Draco, however, looked affronted. “I expect you to be more enthusiastic,” he informed Harry with the first stirrings of a challenging grin.

“I can’t show favoritism for a Slytherin,” Harry replied, mimicking Draco’s haughty drawl with perfection.

“And now, the Seventh Year champions,” McGonagall was saying and Draco fell silent beside Harry, who looked worried. He knew this would be the beginning of a blow up when Ron and Hermione found out he hadn’t entered. “Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas.”

The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers and Ron looked rather proud until he realized Harry’s name hadn’t been called. Hermione, of course, noticed right off and was studying Harry’s reaction to the news that he wasn’t one of the chosen competitors and Harry could tell by the gleam in her chocolate brown eyes that she’d already deduced the answer.

“Harry, this is an outrage!” Ron protested. “We should go see McGonagall after supper.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t entering?” Hermione asked across the table.

“It didn’t seem to matter much,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I didn’t want to keep either of you from putting your names in the ballot.”

Ron just gazed at him and Harry could see the moment when two and two made four in Ron’s mind. He looked shocked at first, and then angry and then almost resolved. As Harry had mentioned to Draco before, Ron would probably prefer Harry not have entered, since that would give Ron more fame for the task.

While they spoke, Professor Flitwick rattled off the champions of Ravenclaw, which of course Luna was a member of along with Terry Boot and Michael Corner from the Sixth Years. Harry recognized a few others but more by face than by their names. Then Professor Sprout read her list of Hufflepuff students to be competing and Harry found he knew even less of them. When Slughorn stood up to read off the Slytherin competitors, Harry felt Draco perk at his side. Joining Draco in his year were Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

When Draco’s name was called, Harry stood and whooped as loud as he could until Draco pulled him back down with a hiss and his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. “I was joking, Potter,” he sighed, looking both mortified, yet decidedly pleased with Harry’s grandstanding.

“You should know better than to challenge a Gryffindor, Malfoy,” Harry replied with a wink.

“Those of you whose names I have called, congratulations,” McGonagall added. “Your Heads of House will be meeting with you after dinner to go over what will be required of you on your specific task. If at any point you’d like to withdrawal your name, see me and I’ll set about finding a substitute.” With that, she scanned the crowd to see if there were any questions and then the meal appeared on the tables and students went silent as they all tucked in.

“So, will you tell me who in Gryffindor is assigned to what challenge when I see you in the morning?” Draco asked, nudging Harry in the ribs.

“I couldn’t do that!” Harry gasped in mock horror.

“Come on, Potter. Play for the other team just this once,” he goaded, but Draco’s words carried a distinctly different tune in Harry’s mind and he blushed furiously at the implications.

“You know that if I find out, you will too,” Harry said after a deep breath. “No secrets, remember?” Harry felt bad holding back from Draco, he could easily sympathize with the Slytherin’s stance against secrets. It seemed their entire lives had been based on and ruled by things they weren’t allowed to share with anyone, so Harry knew why Draco didn’t want any secrets between them. Harry felt the same way; he just didn’t know how to explain this particular problem.

Draco squeezed Harry’s shoulder lightly and parted from him with a smile as he headed down toward the dungeons while Harry started upstairs. Hermione quickly filled the void where Draco had been standing and Harry looked down at her cautiously. “A word, Harry,” she whispered firmly and gripped Harry by the elbow and into a dark corner of the common room when they arrived inside.

“What’s up with you and Malfoy?” she asked bluntly when they were finally seated.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowed into curious slits.

“You’ve been ogling him for a couple weeks now. Are you actually going to tell him that you fancy him or are you going to refrain from tossing your name in for consideration there as well?” she sniped.

“That’s unfair,” Harry grumbled. “I had perfectly good reasons not to enter my name in for the tournament.”

“Oh?” she replied, looking modestly interested, “and what were those?”

“I’m done fighting, Mione,” Harry sighed, leaning into his chair and casting his eyes up to the ceiling. “I just want a break from the clamor. I just want a moment to be normal before we graduate.”

“But just think of how a win in this tournament would look on your Auror application,” she pressed, not giving up. Harry was just happy he’d distracted her from her ramblings about Malfoy.

“Hermione, you’re being naïve if you think that I won’t get into the Auror program. You know as well as anyone that the Ministry is practically salivating to have me under their thumb,” he replied, albeit bitterly.

Everything he’d thought about the Ministry and being an Auror had changed over the last few years and he was beginning to wonder if he wanted a part of any of it after all.

“Even so,” she huffed, not willing to argue that point, “you’re leaving your house high and dry here, Harry.”

“You’ll do fine, the whole lot of you. I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal out of this,” he grumbled.

“I’m just worried about you,” she admitted more softly. “I can feel you slipping away from us, growing more and more detached, and now with this Malfoy infatuation-”

“I’m not infatuated with Malfoy,” Harry denied avidly. “He’s my friend. He’s your friend too,” he pointed out swiftly.

“Only because I don’t want to upset you,” she replied firmly. “But the way you two have been acting lately seems like much more than friendship. Are you and Malfoy dating?”

“Why would you think that?” Harry asked, swallowing thickly. If this was the reception such an idea got when it wasn’t even true, how much worse would it be if it were?

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” she observed and Harry rolled his eyes.

“No,” he replied, drawing the word out much longer than necessary. “I’m not dating Malfoy.”

“But you want to,” she corrected.

“I-” he began but then promptly snapped his mouth shut. “I don’t know what I want,” he admitted at last.

Hermione sighed and seemed to lighten up now that at least one of her theories was going unchallenged. “He seems nicer,” she admitted.

“He is. He’s kinder and more thoughtful than he was before the war, but he’s still Malfoy,” Harry sighed, “and we’re just friends.”

“But you want more?” she guessed.

“I really like him, Hermione. He’s funny and charming and stubborn and beautiful,” Harry rambled, unaware that Hermione’s mouth was taking on a mischievous smile. “He just doesn’t see me that way though, and I enjoy being his friend too much to jeopardize that.”

“What if you discovered he felt the same?” she prompted, slightly deflated after the last remark.

Harry shrugged and looked sulky. “That’s a big what if,” he muttered.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hermione chimed in a singsong voice, which cued Harry into what was going on finally.

“What are you up to, Mione?” he prodded, adopting the tone Malfoy often used when he was suspicious of her. “You can’t tell him, you just can’t,” he pleaded.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Harry. I just need some time to think,” she murmured and drifted away from their little corner leaving Harry to worry over what it was his friend was up to. Within the hour a third of the students from the common room were summoned together and McGonagall instructed them as to what events each student would be participating as she gave them as much information as she could on the challenge itself.

Afterward Harry found out that Hermione had been given a potions challenge where she was supposed to craft a Sleep Draught in less time than the other combatants as well as its antidote. Ron was marked with outflying the other students in an obstacle course that would be created for the tournament. Neville, of course, was given the Herbology challenge and would be tasked to create a maze of hissing briar, a thorny vine that could poison anyone accidentally pricked by it. Dean was put in place for the Transfiguration challenge, where he’d be required to be the first of the four competing students to accurately transfigure twenty-five different items into specified objects.

It seemed pretty straight forward and Harry was relieved to find out there wasn’t going to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts challenge for their year since he would have excelled in that. As such, he felt less guilty when he went to bed that night, though he was more worried about Hermione and whatever plans she had cooking. She’d given him the most frightening smile before going off into her own dorm. “I think I’ve got a plan,” she told him cryptically and then just disappeared inside.

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“Hermione’s paired with you in the potions event,” Harry told Draco the moment he saw him the next morning.

“Granger?” he repeated. “That’s brilliant. It seems I have my challenge after all,” he mused.

“So, everyone seems okay that I didn’t enter,” Harry noted, a bit relieved.

“Who else’s feelings mattered aside from my own?” Draco asked, looking genuinely puzzled for a moment before he let his face slip into a handsome grin.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Malfoy, but I’m afraid you won’t be brewing an arrogance potion in the tournament,” Harry quipped. “I can see that’s what you’ve been practicing.”

Draco smiled and linked arms with Harry on the way into the Great Hall. It was a common gesture for the blond, who Harry had never noticed being terribly touchy-feely with anyone else. Harry wondered what that meant – if anything – and if it might serve to indicate something more than simply being content in Harry’s presence.

“I don’t need a potion to be aware how amazing I am, Potter. Surely you of all people should know this by now?” he goaded and Harry shook his head.

“Me? No, I don’t know anything about that. I know how stubborn you are and how competitive, but amazing? That seems to have escaped me,” Harry mused as if giving it some real thought.

“I’m not stubborn,” he countered, ignoring the rest.

“Of course not,” Harry replied with an indulgent smile. He was so comfortable around the Slytherin, falling easily into the banter they had together. This was the very reason he could never let his feelings for the other boy slip out into the open. It would ruin this, make it stunted and awkward, and Harry couldn’t cope with that. He could imagine the stunning blond pressed against him, shouting out Harry’s name into the air as Harry gave him the most terrific orgasm, but he often squashed that picture in favor of his contentment with the blond just the way he was. Just walking beside the blond made him feel loved and wanted - he wouldn’t push his luck.

“What?” Draco asked, pausing so that Harry had to stop too. Their arms were still joined but Draco was looking at them like they belonged to someone else entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, not understanding the abrupt change in behavior.

“You…you’re projecting at me, Potter,” Draco said, his voice hushed and cautious as he slowly extracted his arm from Harry’s and took a step back, staring at his friend with wide eyes. “You fancy me?”

All the blood drained from Harry’s face with those words and his heartbeat sped up. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, trying to laugh but it came out shaking and desperate.

“It was all right there in your head, Potter,” Draco continued, his voice distant and eerily calm. “I don’t understand. Why have you been keeping this from me?”

“I haven’t kept anything from you,” Harry huffed, trying to regain his footing. He searched his mind for something to say that would make things better, erase whatever it was that Draco had picked up from his thoughts. “It’s nothing, just a stupid thought, just a stupid crush. I’ll get over it. Just forget it, okay?”

Draco had never looked so expressive in his whole life as he did in that moment. His usually stoic demeanor looked momentarily offended, and then crushed, as if his entire world was crumbling out from under him. When Harry dove into his mind, he could hear that the boy wanted to run away, wanted to find a Time Turner and go back so that he hadn’t heard Harry’s mental confession, wanted to find a Headache potion and hide for the rest of the afternoon. None of these things were good. None of these things held an inkling of affection or feelings that might somehow mirror Harry’s. Draco was repulsed by the idea of loving a man, or at least, that’s what Harry deduced from his thoughts before Draco threw him out of his mind and glared at him in earnest.

“I’ll appreciate it if you stayed out of my mind, Potter,” he replied, and the name came with as much acid as it had before the war. With that parting warning, Draco turned on his heel and fled, away from the Great Hall and toward the dungeons.

“Well, that went well,” Harry muttered sullenly to himself. His heart was shattering into pieces, but Hermione came up beside him and swiftly scooped them up.

“I heard,” she told him with a wince. “I hadn’t expected him to be so harsh.”

“What do you mean you hadn’t expected…what did you do?” Harry hissed and she looked suitably chagrined.

“I cast an amplification spell on your thoughts,” she admitted. “I knew you two had been experimenting with reading one another’s minds, and I thought if he heard from your head how sincere you were with your affections that he would-”

“That he would what?” Harry demanded. “Leap into my arms and snog me senseless? That’s not Draco. He’s far more pragmatic than that.”

Harry’s knees nearly collapsed out from under him as he realized he’d lost his best friend at the hands of another friend. He probably couldn’t stay mad at Hermione for meddling and ruining his easy relationship with Draco, but he could sure try.

“I need to be alone,” he whispered and tugged away from her prying grip and pitying eyes and headed out to the lake, the place he enjoyed spending so much time with Malfoy. It seemed it wasn’t in the stars for him to court Draco. The blond had been disgusted by the very suggestion of being more than friends, so that left Harry alone again, without the only other person in the world that made him feel like he’d at least partially fit in, the only person who had embraced Harry’s Slytherin tendencies as surely as he accepted – though teased – the Gryffindor side. The only person, who seemed to have no hidden agenda for being friends with him, didn’t want or need him to be a hero. Now, that confidant was gone and Harry didn’t know how to proceed.

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Author’s Note: Part two to follow soon. I hope you’ve all enjoyed part one!