Unlikely Beginnings

Ron and Hermione made their way down the hall leading to the gargoyle statue standing guard at the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office. After they had become more intimate with one another, they had taken to holding hands almost everywhere they went, with exception to carrying books and during such arbitrary indulgences as eating and going to the loo alone. The reason for their current venture to the Headmaster’s office was what Professor Lupin had revealed to them after their last Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The Headmaster finally had some new information, which he had most likely had for a while, but now he had deemed it necessary for two thirds of his favorite student trio to be let into the light on a few matters. They stood beside the statue, waiting for Lupin.

“Do you see him yet?” Ron asked, meaning the professor, as he turned back towards Hermione. He had an impatient look on his face, but it faded as soon as he looked into her eyes, and he reached out for her hand, squeezing it in his a moment. She smiled at the feeling, and then her head pivoted when footsteps could be heard coming up the nearby stairs.

“I’m sure that’s him now,” she said, a hopeful tone in her voice. True enough, the steps became louder and soon Professor Lupin was in view, hurrying down the hall towards them. They weren’t used to him moving at such a brisk pace, and Hermione now frowned at the slight grimace on her teacher’s face at the old pains he must be feeling due to his haste. He smiled at them tightly before taking a breath and facing the statue.

“Peppermint,” he spoke, and the statue began to move, exposing the staircase to the Headmaster’s office. “Sorry I was a bit late; had a run-in with Peeves. I had a terrible time trying to get rid of him; after several stern warnings, my last resort was to immobilize him,” he explained as he took steps up the stairs to the doors to the office.

Ron snickered at the image of Peeves in his mind. He disliked the poltergeist as much as anyone else, but he had to admit the ghost did have annoyance down to a science. The three of them stood on the landing in front of the doors, and Lupin knocked lightly, waiting for a response of some kind from the old wizard. The latch clicked open, and Lupin pushed the door open fully, stopping to gesture the two teens in before him. They passed through and took the familiar seats in front of the large desk, never letting go of each other’s hands the whole time. Ron looked over and smiled at Hermione when he quietly moved his chair closer to hers as they waited a moment for the Headmaster.

Behind them, Lupin smiled and shook his head as Dumbledore came down the stairs in his office towards the desk. Ron and Hermione looked to him and he smiled with that knowledgeable twinkle in his eyes at the sight of the two of them; he had been young once himself, after all. All attention was on the Headmaster now, though, the importance of the situation coming to the forefront. Sitting behind his desk, Dumbledore laid his hands over the book and regarded the three in front of him as he spoke. “A day ago, I received an owl from Professor Snape, stating that he had, indeed, received your message, Remus. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir,” Remus nodded. “I feared it wouldn’t be easy, and I was right.”

“I understand,” the older man nodded back, still in praise of Remus’ efforts. “The process is rather difficult and painful. I myself had the misfortune to try it when I was a lad,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head vaguely. “Severus also mentioned that Voldemort believes that young Harry has been weakened and is, at this moment, plotting the boy’s downfall.” Ron had been getting impatient again, a frown creasing his face, his grip on Hermione’s hand slowly becoming tighter, though she sighed and held her tongue. “We are not quite certain of Harry’s exact whereabouts, but there is a steady path they seem to be following through Russia, on their way towards the Durmstrang Institute.”

“What!?” Ron screamed, his chair jerking back at his abrupt movement to stand, letting go of Hermione’s hand to gesture wildly with both hands at the Headmaster in front of him. “We have to warn him!” The Gryffindor was turning an unhealthy shade of red as his anger and worry increased as each second passed, radiating outwards from his person. “And, hang on, what do you mean he’s ‘weakened’? What does that mean?” Hermione’s concern was clearly showing on her face, but she kept a more calm presence, trying to wait for more information instead of reacting as her boyfriend was currently doing. She tried pulling him back down to his seat, and he reluctantly sat down again, still glowering as he waited for an answer.

“Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore began slowly, reminding the boy of his place, which was not a place for his temper at the time being. “Harry is quite safe and has a capable companion until Professor Snape can take action for their wellbeing.” Dumbledore looked down over his glasses at the red-haired boy, watching him gradually return to his normal color.

Ron sighed, holding in the same old words they’d heard many times before regarding the Slytherin boy. “So, Malfoy is still with Harry, then?” Hermione asked, glad Ron had calmed down and was ready to resume the conversation. It worried her that Malfoy was seemingly the only one Harry had to rely on for the time being, according to Dumbledore, but she supposed it was better than nothing, if it meant Harry remained in one piece. She couldn’t believe Dumbledore had no one else watching over Harry, or even searching for him in order to protect him. Harry could hold his own, but if he really was weakened, he’d need at least some help against the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore began nodding before he spoke, “Yes, Draco remains with Harry, for our sake. As for why Voldemort believes Harry to be in a vulnerable state, I am not yet at liberty to say. Professor Snape is close to the matter at hand, and will be doing his best to watch out for any stray Hogwarts students that come across his path.” The Headmaster tilted his head and gave a small smile for reassurance, though it didn’t help much. “I am afraid it is up to Harry to share any more personal information with you. I am sorry,” he said genuinely, rising from his seat while using a hand to motion Hermione and Ron towards the door, “but that is all I can tell you right now.” Before either of the students could voice any displeasure at the situation, though it may not do any good, they felt a hand on their shoulders, and turned to Professor Lupin, who was guiding them back from the desk.

They certainly weren’t happy with the scant bit of news they’d received, but there was nothing they could do about it. “Remus, my boy,” the Headmaster called as Ron and Hermione had crossed the threshold, “stay back a moment, will you?” All three heads turned towards Dumbledore at the request, but Lupin smiled at them and gave them a playful little push out of the doorway. Ron grinned, but it quickly faded as the door was closed behind them and they made the descent down the stairs to the hall.

“Sir?” Remus questioned, letting the Headmaster take his seat before taking Hermione’s vacant chair for himself. He waited almost impatiently to hear what the old man had to say, and he wasn’t normally an impatient person.

Dumbledore let out a breath, a slight telling of his tiredness over all the years he’d put his heart into the school and the whole of the wizarding world to protect things that most simply let slip from their minds. Picking up his wand, Albus waved it towards the door, erecting a Silencing Charm around the room, particularly the door, in order to prevent certain Gryffindors from letting their curiosity get the best of them and make their way back up the stairs. He had felt confident in deterring even these particular students for the time being, but there was no sense in underestimating anyone. “Remus, what I am about to tell you cannot leave this room.”

Lupin nodded, sitting straighter in his chair. His mind reeled, from ludicrous to mundane ideas, wondering what on earth Albus was going to say to him. Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly and leaned back in his chair. “Have you determined the nature of young Harry’s condition?” Remus hadn’t been expecting a question, and realized that his heart had been beating a little bit faster in anticipation. He shook his head, as much to clear it of nonsense as to respond to the Headmaster. “He is with child.”

One moment of silence, followed by another, and another, Lupin’s brows slowly pulling together in confusion. He almost hoped he had heard wrong. Therefore, he decided to ask again. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, saying, “Nearly three weeks, I believe.”

Remus closed his mouth, not realizing he had even opened it slightly. Of all the things he had thought might be wrong with Harry, this wasn’t high up on his list. It hadn’t even been on the list, and wouldn’t have been even if there actually had been a list. He was certainly aware of the possibility, but he had been thinking along the lines of a potion of sorts, or a poison, or curse, or anything that could be cured. What was worse, he felt he had failed Harry as a parental figure by not warning the boy of the possibility, as he doubted anyone else had.

Remus let himself wonder who the father was, even though his mind didn’t have much room for an answer that wasn’t Draco Malfoy. Not the least of the worries that idea presented was whether the Slytherin would stick around to be a part of the child’s life. It was without a doubt that Harry would keep the child, and lavish on it all the love he never received himself, and be loved unconditionally in return, but he didn’t strike Remus as the type to want to do it by himself.

It seemed in the time it took him to blink, his thoughts had run a marathon, and he saw the Headmaster sitting in front of him, cleaning his half-moon spectacles on the cuff of his sleeve. Albus noticed his professor was ready to move on, having all of his attention once again focused on the conversation at hand, and readied himself to field inquiries as he placed his spectacles above his long, crooked nose again.

“Albus, can you tell me why Harry is heading towards Durmstrang?” Remus was quite wound up, not only as a part of the solution to this situation, but as someone who had a bigger stake in Harry’s life and wasn’t only professionally responsible for the boy. He felt it rude to hear that thought in his mind, the possessive tone to it, but he felt he was one of the closest people to Harry, and certainly the adult responsible for a great deal of the Gryffindor’s life for as long as Harry chose him to be. “Of all people, why is Harry risking not only his own life, if what you say is correct, to travel in his … condition,” Remus was still having a bit of trouble grasping the reality, “to see Severus? He’s not exactly Harry’s favorite person.”

“Indeed, Remus, he is not,” Albus agreed, and continued seriously, “but Harry is not of entirely sound mind at the moment. He is becoming confused, centering his focus solely on the child. Under normal circumstances, that would not be out of the ordinary, but once the two boys left Hogwarts, these were no longer normal circumstances, as you well know.”

“What does Malfoy have to do with this?” Remus asked, a harsh tone coming to his question. Besides the obvious, which he didn’t particularly want to contemplate how or why it came to be the catalyst of the situation at hand, he wanted to know what part the blond played in this game. He had never had a reason to trust any Malfoy, not even by giving them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the young Slytherin wasn’t as corrupted as many believed him to be; Remus resolved not to judge anything until he heard from Harry on the issue.

“The child between them carries within its blood the same protection as the Dursleys’, the blood of Lily Potter. It is dull, yes, but it is still there. As long as Draco remains with Harry, he is better off than being alone. Draco’s blood is now family in the eyes of Lily’s protection,” Dumbledore explained, “and that is doing more to protect Harry than any of us can right now.”

“What should we do, Headmaster?” Remus sighed, trying to relax, sitting back in the chair. There wasn’t much they could do. Unaware of their exact location, there was no way to interrupt their travel, except by chance. He was sure Dumbledore would have someone searching for Harry, for there was hope for chance in any situation. There was a part in the back of his mind that was a bit upset that Harry couldn’t have come to him for help in this, or any, situation. Wasn’t he good enough to give the boy advice? Could he have done something that could have avoided this whole mess?

“We shall do what we have been, Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore said, sitting up straighter, coming back to his usual commanding self, the one who inspired all in the Order to follow and be confident when times were tough. “We must continue fighting for the good of the wizarding world. I have confidence in Severus and young Mr. Malfoy.”

“So you trust him, then?” Remus wasn’t sure he would like Dumbledore’s answer, and he had a feeling that the Headmaster really didn’t know what should be done. Lupin just hoped everything would turn out all right in the end, for everyone involved.

Dumbledore took a moment before replying, looking back at Remus’ unsure expression. “For that matter, you must place your trust in me. We must do what we must.”

@>*~

It was late afternoon by the time either of the boys woke up, and it appeared that they'd changed positions in the middle of the night. Harry lay there after he opened his eyes, enjoying the warm body pressed to his back. It was a bit early to get going, as they wanted to travel as much as they could during the evening, so Harry let himself try and drift back to sleep to bide the time until Draco woke, at least. He wondered if the soft snores would lull him back to sleep, and he smiled at the thought. He doubted Draco would take kindly to that bit of information and surely deny it, so Harry decided to keep that little tidbit to himself. Draco's arm was draped over Harry's side, a weight the dark-haired boy had no problem with; it was a comforting weight, and made him feel a little more safe. Waking up next to someone was something Harry could definitely do, even if it was Draco Malfoy.

It must have been only a few minutes, but it could have been an hour, before Draco finally stirred from his sleep. Harry wondered whether he should pretend to be asleep again, but he wanted to get the next Apparation over and done with so they could move on. He knew both of them were getting anxious the closer they got, even if Draco didn't show it. Harry knew he was, and the suspense was killing him. They had no idea what they were getting into, and it was hard to prepare for anything and everything that could happen.

Draco woke up and the first thought was to jerk his arm back off of Harry, but once he settled down, he decided not to. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, and Harry didn't mind. The Slytherin knew Harry wasn't asleep, so he felt he might as well get up and start the day, even if it was half over. He hadn't expected to wake up - he had to say it — cuddled against Harry. Not an awful experience, but just unexpected. Draco slowly took his arm back, rolled to his back and gave a full body stretch before sitting up. Harry followed suit, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning before he got up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The blond picked up the strap on their bag and carried it with him on his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Harry sat on the bed, still in only his underwear as he waited to take his own shower.

After Draco was finished, he dried off and got dressed, then brushed his hair. It'd be left to fall where it may, albeit Draco had a hand in directing; it'd been that way since this ludicrous journey began, since his first thought upon being hauled out of bed by a crazed Gryffindor hadn't been to grab his styling products. Draco took one last look at himself and exited to the main room, pausing at the sight of Harry in nothing but his boxers. "What are you doing?" Draco asked, stopped in his tracks for a moment, wondering if Harry wanted sex. He snapped out of it and walked back to the bed to put their things into the bag again, trying to not let this be as awkward as it had started out.

Harry looked up from the book he'd been flipping through at Draco's question. He'd found it in the nightstand drawer beside the bed, but he shut it and stood up before answering. "I was waiting for you to finish so I could get a turn," he said casually. He thought Draco had sounded a bit affronted, and he couldn't see the cause for it. "Why?"

"No reason."

Harry sighed and gathered his clothes to take with him. He was going to come out of the bathroom to get dressed, figuring it wouldn't be a problem, but he changed his mind. He didn't think Draco would have minded, since they were both blokes, and had slept together, and not only that, Harry was pregnant. Come to think of it, though, that last reason could be why Draco had reacted the way he had. Harry didn't think it was a big deal, but maybe he was wrong.

When the door shut behind Harry, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He needed to quit assuming things he had no right to assume, or at least do it and keep his mouth shut until he knew better. If he kept it up, he wasn't sure he and Harry would even be able to live together, wherever it may be, and he couldn't believe he had actually considered that a possibility. He had come to realize that he did hope they could continue their relationship if they weren't killed by the Dark Lord. He still had a tough time thinking about the baby: he still wasn't sure how he felt about being a father so soon. No matter how much they could talk about it; or how many nights he lay there in bed contemplating his impending fatherhood, it still felt like it was all one big dream.

If they did make it out of this alive, he doubted if they could put their animosity and differences aside enough to raise their child. Or would having a baby actually make them friends? Or make them fall in love, if there was such a thing. Most times, even now, they couldn't go more than five minutes without something happening, snapping at each other or wanting to punch the other out over some stupid misunderstanding or another. Draco kicked out at a leg of the bed, which didn't do much but give him a sore toe.

Harry scrubbed at his skin angrily, not wanting to believe Draco was being such a prat right now. What would he have done had Harry been completely starkers? Jumped him, blushed, or thrown a sheet over him? Harry sighed at himself for being so stupid. It wasn't like they were one big happy family, or even were happy to be together in the same room for too long. He couldn't imagine being married, and not even just being friends with benefits; they couldn't even hang out and do something casual without something getting in the way of it being a good time.

He wished it had been Ron who had gotten him pregnant, but without actually having to have sex with the redhead. It would have been weird for a few weeks, and maybe they would have stopped talking to each other for most of that time, but in the end, after 'I was an idiot' apologies had been made, they would still be best mates and be able to spend time together. Harry sighed sadly as he rinsed the soap off of his body. He and Draco barely tolerated each other, but shagged almost all the time. What type of relationship was that? He doubted it would last the way it was, let alone develop into something much more than it was now. He let the water run over his face and he let out another breath before turning the water off.

When Harry came out, he was dried and dressed, hair damp and untidy around his head. Draco looked up from a chair sat beside the fireplace. He felt like kicking himself hard in the arse for once again being a complete shit to Harry. He looked at the other boy, and he did like what he saw, despite the mess of hair. He really needed to do something with that, barring simply taking him to a stylist, and maybe they could get the brunet's hair to behave. Harry looked around the room, taking inventory. Draco had cleaned up everything already. Harry took his glasses off and cleaned a smudge before putting them back onto his face. "I'm ready when you are," he said.

Draco nodded, not saying anything as he picked up their bag and stood, hefting it over his shoulder in the process. The two of them walked out the door and stepped out into the hall, making their way to the front desk in the continued silence. Draco paid for their stay; the first things he'd said since Harry went to shower were said to the concierge, and they walked out of the building and onto the street.

It must have been past five in the afternoon by the time they made their way down the street, out of the town and into a fairly secluded area from which to Apparate. Draco closed his eyes and brought up the images he needed of their next destination before he disappeared with a pop. Harry sighed after Draco had gone, knowing that once he joined Draco he'd vomit. Picturing the blond in his mind, Harry Disapparated, appearing a few moments later, a couple of feet from Draco. He bent over and heaved, just like he'd been dreading. They hadn't eaten anything before leaving, so there wasn't much coming up, but that didn't make it any more pleasant, and he was really getting tired of being sick every day.

He stood there, doubled over, for a few moments after he was finished, just to make sure. He straightened up, wiping his mouth. "I hate doing that," he said to the blond.

Draco nodded again, a sympathetic look gracing his face before they headed out into the street ahead of them where they could hear voices. Harry looked around at the village they were in. There weren't a lot of shops, but the people were all wizards judging from how they were dressed. He followed after Draco, wondering where the other boy was headed, but he didn't say anything. He watched the roads as they became dirt, and the foliage thickened all around them as they walked further and further. Harry had a split-second moment of panic, thinking Draco was leading him into an ambush. Harry kicked Draco's leg, not realizing the blond had stopped, and Draco turned to give him a look.

Harry was about to ask what they were doing out in the middle of nowhere, wondering if Draco had wanted to camp out here for the night. He didn't think it'd be such a bad idea, but they might not think so when they woke up sore and tired the next day. Draco started moving again, and sat down on a fallen log. "Come sit next to me," was all he said. Harry raised an eyebrow at the other boy before complying. He sat beside the blond and fell into a companionable silence until Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Not that I mind the company or the break, but what exactly are we doing?"

Draco didn't answer him right away and instead only pointed towards the mountains in the distance. The sun was just beginning to set, slowly casting the area in shades of orange. It was very beautiful, but Harry had to wonder what prompted this from the Slytherin boy. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing for earlier, or he might want to try another way of getting into Harry's pants. Harry turned to look at Draco, but the other boy's attention was focused on the sunset. They were silent, and the area slowly got a bit darker, and more sounds came from the trees and bushes around them. They were in quite a nice little spot, and as Harry thought about it, he really didn't mind sitting with Draco. Neither one of them really felt like talking or moving as they watched the sun finish its descent.

"You were my first," Harry said quietly to the other boy. His gaze remained forward, but he could see Draco turn and look at him, surprised at the statement.

Draco didn't know what to say, and he looked back at the mountains, opened his mouth, shut it. It had never really dawned on him that he'd taken Harry's virginity, but now that he thought about it, it didn't leave him with a good feeling. He didn't know if it made it worse or not that they were still together now, instead of their first time together happening the way it did and then him leaving. Draco still didn't feel proud of himself for taking something like that from Harry. He had to admit they were getting into some sort of a relationship now, and that Draco wanted it to happen, nonetheless. He knew he was feeling more and more protective of Harry now, though he didn't want to think about the child Harry was carrying, but he knew that the baby was included in that feeling, too.

Deciding to take advantage of Draco's flabbergasted state, Harry said, "I wasn't yours."

"No," Draco said. Silence followed, and they sat there for Merlin knew how long, but it was only a few minutes.

"Who was it?"

Draco hoped he hadn't quite heard Harry correctly. He wished this conversation wasn't so fraught with tension. Who would have known Harry hadn't been with anyone else? He's the bloody Boy Who Lived; surely he'd have his pick of either boy or girl. As he thought about it, though, Draco could see why: it was Harry, after all, savior of the world or not, it was still Harry. Draco felt as if he owed it to Harry to tell him whatever he wanted right now. It'd be the least he could do for basically raping him, despite how it turned out. And how the hell had it turned out? They had become friends, hadn't they? It certainly seemed that way. If they were friends, they could sit and chat about things, even sex. Draco didn't really want to talk about his past sexual exploits, but he didn't see any way out of it without being rude, and he was too tired to be rude right now.

Draco stood and his hands disappeared into his pockets as he took a few steps away from the log. Harry heard him sigh as he looked off into the sky. Harry couldn't tell if Draco was upset by the question or not, but he let the blond take his time, whether he would answer or not. "I'm not really sure where to start," Draco said to the trees.

"Try the beginning?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know everything, not just the last person Draco had been with, or his longest relationship. Had Draco even had a relationship? It almost seemed to Harry that Draco was uncomfortable with someone being this close to him for so long. He knew Draco liked his space and privacy, but Draco seemed to be enjoying his time with Harry, oddly enough.

Draco sighed again. "My first time being sexual was after a Quidditch match in third year. It started after an argument about something that happened during the match, and all I remember is grabbing the front of his robes and kissing him, taking hold of Wood's hair and—"

"Wait. Oliver Wood? Gryffindor's old Quidditch captain?" Harry asked, starting to snicker slightly.

Draco turned around and frowned at Harry, "So?" Draco came and sat back down before continuing. "Anyway, he gave brilliant blow jobs for a Gryffindor." They sat there, Harry snickering still, getting a little louder, and Draco took a deep breath, silently thanking Harry for breaking the tension, even in such a stupid way. "Are you finished?"

Harry nodded, clearing his throat, but leaving a small smile on his face from his mirth. He listened as Draco continued. "We never told anyone. I gave him one, too, and I'm pretty sure it really wasn't all that great. I didn't care much for it, but that could have been because it was Wood. I quite enjoyed doing it to you, though."

Harry smiled at what Draco said, and how the blond wouldn't look at him. He knew Draco wasn't unhappy about it; just that he was a bit embarrassed. Harry found it sweet, if that could be a word applied to Draco Malfoy. Harry could easily say he had enjoyed it, too. After another long length of silence, Harry was still curious, knowing that couldn't be it. "Was he the only one you were with?"

“No, there were a few others. Pansy, of course, but that wasn’t on my list of great ideas.” Draco leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “She was terribly bossy. She’d say, ‘Draco, touch me here. Draco, touch me there. You call that harder? I want to go again; can’t you get it up faster than that?’ I mean, it was my first shag: it wasn’t going to be perfect. I never bragged about my sexual prowess.”

Harry laughed while Draco was describing Pansy’s attitude. That was a first, for Harry to ever hear something like that from the blond, him usually being such a stern person. Draco making fun of someone wasn’t anything new, but in the manner he was doing it now, with humor, was a really nice perspective to see, in Harry’s opinion. He had to scoff at the last part, though. “I heard you were a god in the sack,” Harry said. “At least according to the girls’ gossip, which I guess isn’t true.”

“I don’t know who started that rumor, but I’m far from a sex god,” Draco confessed. “I’m a sexy, dashing bloke, but definitely not a god.” Harry was a bit surprised that Draco was telling him the truth. After a lot of people in his life had lied to him, or simply kept the truth from him, Harry figured he assumed a little too much when it came to taking what people said for truth. For the longest time, he’d thought Draco had started the rumor himself, but apparently not. “I don’t think I was anything special to her; it was our first and only time together, and afterwards I was the last thing on her mind as she jumped into bed with anyone that said ‘hello’ to her.”

Harry shifted on the log, coming a bit closer to Draco, nudging the blond with his shoulder. “Not that I have any other experience, but I don’t think you’re a bad lover,” he said, watching Draco turn to him and give a smile. They spent another few moments in silence, listening to the sounds around them. It was easy to forget where they were going. It’d be nice to have done this at Hogwarts, getting to know each other. Maybe Harry shouldn’t have turned Draco away the first time they’d met at Madam Malkin’s.

“My first time shagging a bloke was Adrian Pucey in fourth year,” Draco continued, looking to Harry to see if the other boy actually wanted to hear the rest. Harry was getting an unsure look on his face, and Draco knew why. “Yeah, he failed a year. He was sick and missed most of the year; Hogwarts doesn’t allow people to resume the rest of the class, so he had to start where he left off, which was with the year under him. He could have left after his OWLs, but he needed a NEWT for his career.” Harry was sitting close to him, and he didn’t mind at all. It was getting a bit colder out as the time passed, and Draco welcomed the heat. “After we did the deed, typically, I started calling him ‘Pussy’. He doesn’t like it at all, and I’m sure he regrets the entire thing, but what do I care? Most people don’t even know why; they seem to think I’m only making fun of his name. Only a few people know the real reason: like I said, I don’t go about bragging, but I don’t necessarily hide it, either.”

Harry’s expression turned from interest to concern as he thought about that. If Draco didn’t care who knew, but wasn’t about to tell everyone about it, that meant that he didn’t care what people thought about them together, right? “Don’t look at me like that,” Draco interrupted his thoughts. “We weren’t the best of friends, Harry; we despised each other. If anyone had known, there are those in my house who would have tried to take you away from me and do the same thing I had in the beginning.”

Harry really frowned now, but let it go. He didn’t want to think about what happened before, rather wanting to focus on now. He certainly didn’t want to think about what someone else would have done to him. Looking back, Harry realized Draco was quite nice to him, in comparison to what the Slytherins could have done.

“Have you let anyone shag you?” Harry asked. He was curious now, wondering if the reason why Draco wasn’t too rough with him was from his own not-so-great experience. Draco didn’t seem the type to hang on to something like that in his mind, but it could have taken him some time to realize and change his ways with Harry. Besides that, Draco did seem to know what he was doing, knew how it would feel from Harry’s position. Draco eventually nodded. Harry wasn’t sure why Draco was reluctant to talk about any of this, but he guessed it was just an uncomfortable topic overall. Harry didn’t have to ask his next question, as Draco knew it was coming. After Draco still didn’t answer when several moments passed, Harry prompted, nudging shoulders again to get the boy’s attention. “Come on, Draco.”

“It was Blaise,” Draco said.

“Zabini?”

“We’re friends. And yes, Harry, even I have friends,” the blond said, not waiting for Harry to say anything else. Harry hadn’t thought of saying anything, but he did learn a little bit about Draco from what he said himself. “After I’d been with Pussy, I wondered whether his subsequent depression and resignation after he’d come back to Hogwarts was my fault for humiliating him, but I guess it was because he had to repeat a year. I went to Blaise to find out what could have been so bad about the experience. It was fifth year, and I knew he wouldn’t make fun of me or tell anyone he’d had me.”

“Was it what you expected? I mean, being on the other end,” Harry asked, watching Draco’s face to really see what he thought, not necessarily take his word for it. Everyone has at least one friend, though, and Harry had been surprised that Draco would assume Harry thought he had no one close to him. He supposed with Draco’s family it might be a touchy subject.

“I didn’t enjoy it, if that’s what you mean. Even though we’re close, Blaise can get very overenthusiastic in private, especially when it comes to sex,” Draco said. Harry spared a moment to wonder why he’d never heard anything about Blaise before, if he was that excitable in bed, but he was quite pleased that Draco continued to speak honestly. “I suppose it balances out for the fact he’s usually so quiet and reserved you almost forget he’s there. It could have been better, but I think I was too nervous and tense through most of it.”

“Do you think you’d ever want to try it again with someone?” Harry asked, knowing it was a bit of an obvious question, but it just sort of slipped out. He wondered what it was like to be the one on top, and he didn’t mean to imply wanting to force Draco into it, even if he thought he could. Harry simply wanted to know what it felt like.

“Trying to tell me something, Harry?” Draco asked, a sexy tone to his voice, making Harry a little warm inside. He was attracted to Draco, and he had to admit he always had found the blond attractive, despite their past history of violence towards one another.

“No, just…wondering, I guess.” He felt a little embarrassed, even though he knew there wasn’t a good reason to be. Draco had just shared a lot with him, and Harry doubted he was done, so he had nothing to be embarrassed about asking one little question. Draco smiled at him again.

“I don’t know,” he answered, letting out a deep breath. “I haven’t considered it, mostly because there was no one else I’d felt comfortable with, especially since I went a bit mental for a couple weeks thinking I’d been knocked up. It turned out to be a bad case of the flu.”

“Oh?” Harry asked pointedly with a touch of sarcasm.

“Yes, well,” Draco began, equally as pointed, “my mind usually disappears into my shorts when I get into bed with someone. Sorry.”

“I noticed,” Harry said, sighing, but he wasn’t mad. They looked at each other and neither of them was mad. There was no use in getting upset about it now, when neither of them really was upset about that part of this ordeal. It was a bit late for regrets, anyway. “Were they the only ones?”

“Just the boys,” Draco answered. “Alicia Spinnet,” he continued, and Harry gave him a look but Draco went on. “Cho Chang, last year,” Draco looked at Harry to gauge his reaction. He knew Harry had had a crush on her all throughout third and fourth year, and even tried asking her out. Harry didn’t care about it, and was glad that Draco hadn’t cared about her, knowing she wouldn’t have cared about him either. He almost laughed thinking about his ‘date’ with her in fifth year, which she had cried through while alternately mourning Cedric and staring at Roger Davies. “I don’t know what you saw in her, but she’s a shallow bird, that one. Walked right up to me in the Three Broomsticks and asked me straight up to shag her. Those were the only girls from Hogwarts. During the Triwizard Tournament there was a girl from Beauxbatons, and some older girls from around Hogsmeade and the village near my home,” he summed up. There was no reason to elaborate on each one, and he believed Harry had heard enough on this subject.

“So, there’s been more girls then boys?” Harry asked, wondering what that meant for their relationship. If Draco didn’t fancy boys as much, would that mean he wouldn’t stay with Harry? It didn’t sound as if Draco had ever had a relationship that didn’t consist of just sex, or even that Draco had sex with the same person more than once. Harry had changed Draco’s opinion of relationships in a lot of ways.

“I guess so. I suppose that makes me bisexual. I’d say at least half of the wizarding population is, though a lot of men are afraid of being with other blokes because of the curse.” Draco wished he had thought this through more, being with Harry, before everything had happened. He doubted they would have spent as much time together had Harry not conceived a child, but Draco had come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t trade this new friendship. Draco looked to Harry. “What about you? I know I was your first, but do you like both genders? You had that crush on the Chang girl, but that’s all I knew about.” He kind of felt dumb for thinking Harry had had sex with at least a few people before him. Where would he have found the time? He was always running off to do something or other.

“If I had to label it, I’d probably say I’m gay.” Harry didn’t think he should hold out much longer to see whether he was bisexual or not, especially after what Hermione had said to him before Snape had even told him about the child.

Draco nodded at his answer, and he understood. He’d never spent a lot of time paying attention to either sex, just whatever looked good to him at the time. He supposed that was a bit shallow, but the last thing he had been looking for was a relationship, or anything else that would get in the way, but he didn’t quite think the same about this relationship. “Do you reckon you’ll want to sleep with anyone again?” Harry asked, not knowing whether it was appropriate. He had no claim on Draco, just something that gave them a common bond, and they weren’t even technically dating, let alone married, but he didn’t think he could be around Draco if he had been with someone else.

“I’ll want to sleep with you,” Draco said quietly, and Harry’s eyes widened slightly for a moment, not believing his ears. “I haven’t been with anyone else since I’ve been with you.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep with someone else or not. He hadn’t even looked at others, not that he had much of a chance to while gallivanting around the countryside with Harry. He hadn’t thought about anyone at Hogwarts, nor even simply appreciated the looks of anyone they’d seen since leaving school.

Harry knew Draco wanted to sleep with him, but after hearing it in the way Draco had said it made it seem completely different. If he didn’t know better, he’d have to say that Draco was starting to develop feelings for him. It was a bit of a strange concept for Harry, since he’d thought that Draco had been sleeping with others besides him since their first time. It was nice to find out it wasn’t true, and it made Harry feel a little different, and a little ambitious. In one of his not-so-rare sudden impulses, Harry leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of Draco’s mouth. As he pulled back, wanting to look at the blond’s face to see what he had thought of that, he was stopped by a hand on the back of his neck.

Harry let out a short moan at the sudden passion that Draco threw into the impromptu kiss. Harry opened his mouth when he felt the blond’s persistent tongue licking at his lips. They slowly broke apart after the kiss, and Draco stood from his seat on the log, holding a hand out to help Harry to his feet. “Let’s go get a room for the night. We still have a couple days travel before we reach Durmstrang, and Snape, if he’s still there,” said Draco.

Draco pulled Harry up and they made their way back to the road, still holding hands, though they were dropped once they started the walk back. Harry was glad Draco had opened up, but had been a little worried when he started the conversation. He had no idea what Draco would think about it having been Harry’s first time with anyone. He felt like he’d almost ruined the chance for a relationship of any sort, but he didn’t think Draco was going anywhere because of it. Harry could see why the blond would think he’d had sex before.

He was popular, but it wasn’t just a normal popular, it was because he was famous. If a girl liked him, was it because she liked him, or because he was famous for one thing or another, be it Quidditch or Voldemort? Everyone who had ever shown an interest in him had been shallow, but they had had no idea how big a favor Harry was doing by letting them down. Anyone close to Harry was likely to be more involved in his battles, and could become a victim; he couldn’t do that to someone. To make it easier, Harry hadn't like any of them to begin with, so it hadn't been hard to say no.

When they made it back to town, they stopped in front of a small hotel, which looked more like a three story house than a usual large hotel. Draco seemed pleased with it, though, and Harry walked inside when the blond held the door open. They stopped at the front desk, Draco accepting a key from the young lady working there, and paid her for the night before they headed towards the stairs. Once inside their room, Draco set the bag down on an armchair near a small fireplace and went to the bathroom. Harry wandered to the bed, taking off his outer robes on the way and sat down to relax for a few minutes. Draco returned, looking a bit more refreshed, and joined Harry on the bed.

“How much further do you think before we get to Durmstrang?” Harry asked, watching Draco unlace his boots.

Draco frowned as he was bent over attending to the laces, thinking that he could have sworn Harry had already asked the same question earlier. He put it aside, and attributed it to getting lost amidst the rest of the conversation. “Two or three more days, I’d wager.” He felt Harry shift on the bed, and he kicked off his boots before lying down beside the Gryffindor. Harry tried to count the days they’d already been gone, and he figured they’d been on this adventure for almost a fortnight.

He hadn’t a clue as to why they had to go, but they were here now, and the point was to find Snape and speak with him. Why they were heading towards Durmstrang, Harry wasn’t sure anymore, but Draco seemed to know, and Harry decided to leave it at that. He knew there wasn’t anything good ahead of them, and there was a very good chance there would be trouble when they arrived. If Hogwarts was a safe place for members of the Order of the Phoenix, that made Durmstrang a place for Death Eaters, given the school’s history of teaching the Dark Arts and their Headmaster having been a Death Eater.

“Do you think there will be Death Eaters at Durmstrang?”

Draco turned his head to Harry, raising an eyebrow. “There’s a good chance, Harry,” he replied honestly.

“Perhaps this wasn’t the best of ideas,” Harry sighed, pulling one of Draco’s arms up so he could rest his head on it, facing the blond.

“Honestly, Harry,” Draco started, “that’s like being drunk and stumbling, laughing the whole way, into a room full of angry Death Eaters and then promptly puking on my father’s shoes.” Harry looked sick, like he might just get the puking out of the way beforehand. “If that’s what you have planned, then ‘uh-oh’ is a severe understatement.”

Harry sighed again, and Draco lifted his arm up, pulling Harry closer, and rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t know what it was, maybe just the time spent together and the trust built, but he felt he could talk to Harry. Draco was realizing how much he wanted this relationship, if for nothing else than simply for not wanting to be ripped apart from someone who cared about him. Blaise cared about him, but Harry wasn’t like Blaise at all. His fellow Slytherin was quiet and smart. Draco was just as smart, but his interests lay outside of books and work; he enjoyed traveling and adventure, something that he had in common with Harry. Despite the horrible trip they were currently on, each other’s company had made it bearable, almost enjoyable.

Draco didn’t know anymore why the person next to him was supposed to be his enemy. Perhaps it was because he had finally known this Gryffindor for the person he was, and not simply judged him by everyone else’s speculations. Harry was happy to be a normal student and do normal things. His friends didn’t treat him like he was something special, and that’s exactly what Harry wanted. And, even though he didn’t want his fame, he took it with a grain of salt and did what was expected of him for the greater good. Draco could understand that, but by no means sympathized: he could never do something like that, but he realized the closest thing he’d have in common was the child between them. His first thought had been to not be a part of the child’s life, but now he felt he owed it to the unborn being he’d helped create. He wasn’t sure he and Harry would continue their closeness, but that was another thing they would have to put aside, at least somewhat, to remain civil in the face of an innocent.

The one thing that was pulling at Draco to take responsibility for his child was the way his own father had been towards him. He didn’t want to be like his father. He’d seen his father with his mother, and he didn’t like how he treated her, supposedly the one he loved, let alone his own only child. Draco hated not being able to comfort his mother after his father had taken something out on her. He would never want to be like his father. Draco kept repeating that in his head until something dawned on him. By being with Harry right now, by his thoughts these past weeks, he realized what he had been doing: his alliances had been changed from evil to good. Oh, Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?

He knew how he felt, and he couldn’t change it. People had told him how he felt, what he had to act like, for most of his life, and he wasn’t agreeable to it any further. If his father was at Durmstrang, he knew nothing good would come of it. Draco knew he would make sure to treat Harry better, and because he’d wronged Harry already, he didn’t want to make it any worse. He looked back at Harry, already sleeping, his body rising and falling gently with each breath. He’d never enjoyed someone simply being next to him, not asking for anything, but just to sleep, safe and sound.

@>*~

There was still a fairly good amount of students on their way to the Quidditch pitch as Hermione made her way along with them to watch the game. She didn’t see many Slytherins in the crowd, and their stands were mostly empty when she looked across the pitch from the Gryffindor stands. All the Ravenclaws were there, and a smattering of Hufflepuffs, but anyone would say there weren’t as many people there as usual. With two Seekers gone from the school, the infamous rivalry gone with them, Quidditch had lost a bit of its appeal, especially to parents and wizarding folk from outside the school.

“Hermione,” Neville called to her when she reached her seat. He hadn’t really been waiting for her, but he was kind of lonely, and hoped she would settle down beside him. He had no one to watch in the game, but he didn’t have anything better to do elsewhere either. The library was empty, and though Neville went for the books, he at least liked to have some silent company, whoever it may be, Madam Pince notwithstanding. He enjoyed Quidditch, but he could never get too into it at other games. Trying to watch all the different players was too much for him, and he tended just to focus on one and follow them the entire match. At least he could watch Ron, and have something to talk about since Hermione was certainly going to be watching her boyfriend as well.

“Hello, Neville,” she said back, smiling at him. She looked around him, despite herself, knowing that Blaise wouldn’t dare to be in the middle of Gryffindor’s cheering section. They weren’t too bothered by it, being used to hiding their relationship, and being separated most of the time. Hermione couldn’t think of her relationship being like that: if she couldn’t see Ron at least every half hour, she didn’t know how she’d manage being so lonely.

“Stands are a little bare today, eh?” Neville asked. There was support for both teams, but that was about it.

Hermione nodded. “I’m sure it has a bearing on people’s interest in the match, especially with Harry being gone.”

They didn’t have much to talk about, but thankfully before either of them could say anything more, Colin Creevey’s voice came booming out of the commentator’s box. “Welcome everyone, to today’s Quidditch match: Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor!” A pause for cheers to spring up from the stands, and they didn’t sound as sparse as the crowd was, which was a bit encouraging. “And here come the teams! Playing Seeker for Gryffindor this match is my little brother, Dennis Creevey!” There weren’t as many cheers for that, but there were a few. “Also, Ginny Weasley filling in as Chaser!

“Madam Hooch has just brought the balls out, and has sent the Keepers to their posts. And there, she’s blown her whistle, and the Quaffle has been thrown up into the air, and quickly taken by Gryffindor Chaser Parvati Patil. The Bludgers are very close to Patil, and — oh! — she’s just dodged that one, which has spun off towards Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw.

“Ooh, now Brocklehurst has stolen the Quaffle, after leading the Bludger off to Ravenclaw’s Beaters, and is on her way towards Gryffindor’s goal posts, guarded by team captain, Ron Weasley. Brocklehurst passes to Turpin, dodging a Bludger sent by Seamus Finnigan of Gryffindor.

“Getting close to the goal, Weasley attempting a steal but instead derailed by a speeding Bludger– Oh! Nice save by Ron Weasley.

“Gryffindor in possession, Keeper Weasley passing to Thomas, passing to Chaser Weasley, dodging another Bludger, hit by Ravenclaw Beater Orla Quirke, the Bludger now going straight for Gryffindor Beater Lavender Brown, who hit it back and – ouch! – smacks right into Padma Patil, who looks mostly unharmed.

“Quaffle stolen by Lisa Turpin, stolen back by Weasley, who has zipped past the Bludgers and is headed to Ravenclaw’s goal posts, dodges a steal from injured Patil, and– score! Gryffindor scores, now leading ten to zero.” Cheers were more constant now that the balance had been tipped, giving Gryffindor to cheer for more goals, and Ravenclaw to cheer harder to prevent them.

“Keeper Ackerly tosses the Quaffle out to Brocklehurst, who takes off down the pitch, followed by Turpin at her side, as they begin passing back and forth, avoiding the Gryffindors’ Bludgers, hit by Lavender Brown – what a strong arm on that girl! Distracted by the Bludger, Brocklehurst drops the Quaffle to be picked up by Thomas, flipping around to return to Ravenclaw’s goal posts!

“Here come the Bludgers, chasing him down, Thomas dodges, spins, dives, and goes back up – oh, no, he won’t be back after that hit from one of the Bludgers. I hope he falls fast enough that the other one leaves him alone.” Colin was quiet, as most of the players slowed while Madam Pomfrey and a couple of students carried Dean off the pitch. Colin resumed, sounding simply in awe of everything that was happening as he watched the two teams. Over the years, neither of the Creevey brothers had lost a shred of enthusiasm for anything they took part in.

“And the game goes on!” Colin continued. “Quaffle is close to Gryffindor’s goal posts, protected by Weasley, and Chasers Quirke and Brocklehurst are coming up fast, a quick steal from Ginny, but stolen back by Mandy, oh! Better luck next time, Ron. Ravenclaw scores! Game is tied ten to ten.”

“He’s doing better this year than the past couple, I think,” Neville commented, though keeping an eye on the game.

Hermione nodded, looking back at Neville for a moment before her attention returned to the game, too. “He’s had a few years to get used to the pressure,” she said, knowing how worried Ron got before a match, even if it was for absolutely no reason and he was just getting his knickers in a twist over nothing. “I think it helps that I said I’d give him a bit of a reward if he kept Ravenclaw from scoring,” Hermione added. That was enough to pull Neville’s eyes from the game and smile a knowing smile at her. Hermione blushed, but didn’t comment.

A moment later, a bit belated due to the rush of the game, or maybe it was just Neville, he asked, “Do you think Dean’s alright?” They had both winced at the hit, and watched him spiral to the ground before being carried away.

“He wasn’t that high up, so he should be fine,” Hermione answered. Before she could praise their mediwitch and assure Neville that Dean would be properly taken care of, a sudden streak of blue and bronze flew by the stands in quite a hurry. “Was that the Seeker?”

Neville had seen it, too, and was looking in the same direction that Hermione was, but they couldn’t see anything. Hermione squinted into the sky, scanning with her eyes. “I think so, but I don’t know where they went, or even who they are. Who is Ravenclaw’s Seeker?”

“Oh, my! And it looks like the Snitch has been spotted by Ravenclaw Seeker Luna Lovegood! Creevey has been darting around, and now they’ve both taken off after what has to be the Golden Snitch.”

“Luna?” Hermione questioned. “I didn’t even think she had any interest in Quidditch.” Her specialties were strange myths and anything else contained in her father’s magazine, but Hermione had never heard anything about sports from the Ravenclaw girl. During fifth year, Hermione had tried reasoning with the strange girl, telling her that the articles in her father’s magazine were a bunch of rubbish. Though after Harry granted The Quibbler an interview, Hermione had had to respect the magazine at least a little bit. When Luna had come along to the Ministry of Magic and helped in the fight against the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had to respect Luna, even though her ways were odd. She was likable, but … odd.

“Neither did I.” Neville added.

The two Gryffindors watched as Luna and Dennis sped around the pitch. It was hard to watch them, and it was common to get a sore neck from looking up so high, trying to track the Seekers through the sky, up and down. They seemed to lose the Snitch for a moment, but soon they were both off again at high speed after an, from the ground, invisible ball. Suddenly, Luna leaned forward on her broom and took off like a shot. Dennis wavered for a moment, unsure whether to follow her or not. He couldn’t risk it, and was soon racing up behind her, soon neck and neck with one another. They both reached out, trying to hold onto their brooms in the rushing wind. It was close, their hands bumping into each other as they inched closer and closer to the Snitch, but in the end, Dennis was the one to barely grab the ball between his outstretched fingers.

“Another save by Weasley! Patil takes possession of the Quaffle, she tosses it to– hang on. The Seekers have slowed down after a rigorous race all over the pitch, and has the Snitch been caught?!” Colin gasped. He watched as his little brother raised his hand in the air, waving the little golden ball back and forth excitedly. “Dennis Creevey has caught the Snitch! Way to go, little brother!” Cheers and boos could be heard from the stands, and Colin spoke over them easily with the Sonorus Charm on his voice. “The final score is one hundred sixty to ten; Gryffindor wins!”

The players in the sky swooped and twirled in excitement before flying down and landing. Everyone ran to where Dennis was, who had landed a few moments after confirming his catch. Seamus and Ron dropped their brooms and hoisted the younger boy onto their shoulders, cheering at him as they walked towards the edge of the stadium, towards the locker rooms. The Ravenclaw team was clearly not as happy, but they were still quite amiable as they congratulated each other and the Gryffindor team on a good game played.

No one seemed to take it out on Luna that she hadn’t caught the Snitch, even when she commented, “That was fun, but I think I may have gotten a splinter in my bum.” The rest of her teammates chuckled softly at the strange girl as they all headed towards the locker rooms behind the Gryffindor team.

@>*~

Harry’s eyes opened suddenly when he woke from a very vivid dream. He was covered in sweat and when he tried to move, all he could manage was to shake, so he lay still. Though from the moment he woke, the dream had all but disappeared from his consciousness, and he could only recollect a few images of Voldemort talking to … Lucius? The man had never been in his dreams before, but Harry had also never been so involved with Draco before, so he was trying not to think much of it. He could have succeeded with that if his scar wasn’t throbbing, making his head warm with a dull pain. He slowly raised a hand to it, pressing gently, trying to make it stop. He didn’t want to pay much attention to that, either, but he had nothing he could do about it at the moment. If Hermione were there, she’d tell him to go see Remus or Professor Dumbledore, but neither of them was there, either.

The more Harry tried to recall the dream, the more he only saw pieces of it. He couldn’t remember anything that was said, but he couldn’t shake any of it out of his mind. He knew this type of thing meant, more often than not, that Voldemort was setting something in motion, his intensity on the matter high enough to filter through to Harry’s mind through the link of the scar. As much as he would rather have had a nightmare about Lucius Malfoy simply because he was hanging about with Draco, he knew it wasn’t, and he sighed, looking to the window as the sun cast a dim orange glow on the room as it set beneath the mountains and trees in the distance. It was a nice view from their room, and at any other time he’d be more inclined to enjoy it; but with their destination looming in his mind, Harry couldn’t spare a happy thought for it.

He couldn’t even get out of bed, and he stared at the darkening sky as he waited for a reason to get up. After a few more minutes, he felt Draco begin to stir in his sleep, and he knew that was his cue. He reached over to grab his glasses from the nightstand as Draco sat up in bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Draco watched him, and wondered how long the other boy had been awake; he guessed not long, since he hadn’t even been wearing his glasses, so Draco doubted he’d been out of bed. He hadn’t seen the dark-haired boy without his glasses that often, but without them, Draco realized that even though he’d complained that they were an ugly feature on the boy, he was more attractive with them than without. After seven years of seeing Harry with glasses, he supposed he’d gotten used to it.

Draco left those thoughts behind as he got out of the bed after untangling his leg from the sheets, grabbed their bag and headed to the bathroom. Harry, after several days with Draco behind him, sat up and rested against the headboard as he waited for the blond to return. He heard the toilet flush from behind the bathroom door, and he wondered if he’d ever have to use the toilet as much as women seemed to claim they must do during pregnancy. At least they made that big of a deal out of it on the telly; well, of what he observed when the Dursleys would let him watch in the first place. He wondered if he would be the same, though, being male, or maybe it hadn’t hit him since he wasn’t that far along. Either way, he would much rather have to run to the loo every five minutes than go through this puking business.

The door opened to the bathroom and Harry stood to go in after Draco came out. Draco handed him the bag as he watched Harry walk towards him. Draco retrieved his clothes from the chair beside his side of the bed and put them on. He could hear Harry in the shower, and he wondered what the other boy was doing, what he was washing. He supposed it was an odd thing to think as he sat down, but he couldn’t help picturing the other boy in his mind as he waited. He could have been gathering their things, how few they were, in preparation for the next trip, but he decided daydreaming would be much more practical at the moment. And if not practical, it was far more enjoyable than collecting Harry’s dirty socks.

Harry was thankful to be a wizard, if only for Freshening Charms on not so fresh underwear. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to bring along a change of underwear, if not a whole set of clothes. He really hadn’t been thinking much at all, had he? He shook his head at himself in the mirror and tried to pat down his hair. He left the room and bent to pick up his clothes from the floor, meanwhile, completely oblivious to Draco’s eyes on his body from the second he’d come from the bathroom. Harry never even heard Draco move, but he certainly felt Draco’s hands on his hips as he stood, his arse pulled flush against the other boy’s groin. Harry turned his head to the side to try and see the other boy. “Draco?”

Draco pushed hair away from Harry’s ear with his nose as he all but nuzzled close to Harry, whispering, “I want you.” That sent chills down Harry’s spine. “Can I?” he asked, not wanting to hurt the other boy again by taking advantage, as he wasn’t in the mood to argue about anything. Harry wasn’t sure what had gotten into Draco, since they’d never dropped everything before Apparating just to shag. Draco was usually the one who wanted to get going, and now he wanted to stay. Harry was thrown off by the blond asking for permission, and it kind of turned him on, making his heart beat faster, and he let out a shaky breath as he nodded his head.

The blond felt Harry’s head brush against his in a nod of confirmation before he turned the other boy around and pressed a kiss against Harry’s lips. Harry’s lips parted under Draco’s and he felt the blond’s tongue slither into his mouth, pulling his own back with it as they kissed. Draco pulled Harry close, putting more pleasurable pressure between their groins, and Harry moaned into the blond’s mouth at the sensation. Draco paused for a moment, to lean back from their close contact. Harry frowned when he watched Draco reach up to pull his glasses off, and to toss them haphazardly to the side. Draco focused his attention on their bag as he rummaged around inside it after pulling it up onto the bed, and he pulled out the bottle of hand oil. Draco knew he couldn’t see, and he smiled for a moment at the intent stare as Harry tried to see what Draco was doing, and he put the bottle in his pocket for the time being.

Harry was pulled up against Draco’s body once more and their lips found their way to each other again, eliciting more moans from Harry, especially when he felt Draco’s hands move from his hips, around to his back, and slide further down. When Draco squeezed, Harry couldn’t help but grind his pelvis forward into the blond. He barely noticed when Draco turned his body, never releasing his lips, as he pushed him back until his legs hit something to make them stop. Draco reached his hands to the waistband of Harry’s boxers, and without preamble, slid them down, letting them pool at the dark-haired boy’s feet. Harry shivered, as much at the cool air on his warm privates as in anticipation.

Without notice, Draco took hold under his thighs and lifted him off the floor slightly to set him down on the table. Harry had been caught off guard, and it let Draco’s eyes take their fill at the naked body posed before him as he retrieved the bottle of oil from his pocket, setting it on the table beside Harry. Harry watched, with as much as he could actually see, as Draco began undoing the clasps of his trousers, and shoving them down, along with his underwear, to the floor, while that action exposed a very interested erection that Harry couldn’t miss, glasses or no. Draco moved a bit closer, pushing a hand against Harry’s smooth chest, telling him to lean back. The table was cool on his skin, and Harry tensed before his skin warmed the wood under him. He felt Draco spread his legs and move in between them.

Draco grasped the bottle and poured some of the oil into his palm and reached down to coat his erection. Harry tried not to breathe so loud in order to hear what was going on, and all he could feel were Draco’s thighs brushing his own. He heard something hit the floor but he had no time to question when he suddenly felt Draco’s hand, slick with oil, caressing his hole. It was barely a moment before Draco slipped a finger inside, and Harry tensed at the insertion. He breathed out, relaxing his muscles and he closed his eyes, getting lost in the sensation as it became more and more pleasurable as Draco worked him open one finger at a time. When Draco was finished, Harry was panting as the blond lifted his legs to expose his hole a little better. With one hand holding one of Harry’s legs up, he used the other to steady his cock, positioning it towards the teased hole in front of him. After a few careful thrusts, he was deep inside of the other boy’s body.

Harry gasped when Draco pushed deeper and deeper until he couldn’t go any further. Even after all this time, it still stung a little as his muscles were stretched, prepared first or not, when Draco slid inside of him for the first time. The oil certainly helped, and it made it feel so much better, but Draco must have felt Harry tense, and he paused a moment to give Harry’s body a chance to relax again. It also gave Draco a moment to collect himself and not become too excited from the tight heat enveloping his cock. Draco leaned over Harry so that he could reach the other boy’s lips in a kiss, and Harry moaned as Draco’s lips touched his as Draco’s body pressed his cock in deeper and his abdomen against Harry’s own hard cock. Draco began to slowly pull back, and thrust forward just as slowly, torturing Harry, who was responding to the kisses and penetration with pants and gasps, breaking away only to breathe.

He tried to hold his legs up, and wondered if Draco would mind if he sort of wrapped them around the blond’s back. They were useless, almost dangling on either side of Draco’s hips, though they moved with the momentum as Draco pushed his cock in and out of Harry’s arse. Draco angled his cock a bit differently, and Harry arched his back at what felt like a considerably deeper thrust aimed at his prostate, making him almost choke on a gasp he let out. Draco pushed himself up from Harry’s body to look down at his lover, watching the sweat pooling in the dark-haired boy’s throat, and the flush creeping up his cheeks. Draco couldn’t resist, and he leaned back down to bite at Harry’s neck just where it met his shoulder, sending the other boy into spasms of pleasure at the new sensation added to the mix.

Harry tried not to dig his nails into Draco’s arms as he held on, whimpering as his cock jerked in between their stomachs and at the hard suction Draco was applying to his neck. He knew he must have tightened himself on Draco’s cock, because he heard a drawn out moan come from the blond, and Harry held on even tighter when Draco began thrusting harder and harder, continuing to hit Harry’s prostate. Draco continued his quick, hard thrusts as he sucked and bit at Harry’s neck. It wasn’t a surprise when Harry cried out, his cock spurting as he came all over their chests. Draco straightened after that, looking down at Harry as he took hold of the other boy’s hips, pulling the tight hole back onto his cock as he pushed forward. It only took a few more thrusts and Draco came inside the other boy. Draco held the position while they both tried to regain their breath. The sweat on both of their bodies began to cool, and Harry couldn’t help but squirm as the drying come on his chest began to itch. Draco pulled back slowly, his softening cock slipping out of Harry with a soft, wet sound.

Draco bent down to his trousers and found his wand, casting a Cleaning Charm on himself and then Harry before pulling his trousers back up. He moved away so that Harry could get up, but the dark-haired boy just lay there. Harry was a bit sore all over, he supposed from lying on the table, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. He sat up, leaning back on his hands as he watched the blond pick up the bag and put the bottle of oil back inside. He also picked up Harry’s glasses and handed them to the still naked boy. “Thanks,” Harry said quietly as he slid off the table and made his way to his own clothes. His hair was messier than it was when he got out of the shower, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it right now.

When they were both dressed, they found themselves sitting beside each other on the end of the bed. Harry had just finished putting his shoes on. They were quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not until Harry spoke. “What made you want to do that?” he asked, looking to the blond.

“Do I need a reason to shag you?” Draco asked back, a bit of an edge to his retort. He didn’t know why Harry would even ask. Why else would he want to? He had even asked to make sure that he wasn’t doing something Harry didn’t want to do, too, but it seemed that wasn’t good enough.

“No,” Harry answered, “I was just wondering.”

They sat there for another moment before Draco stood, pulling the bag onto his shoulder as he walked to the door, opened it and held it there, waiting for Harry to join him. Neither of them spoke as they made their way down the stairs to the front desk to hand over the key to the room before leaving the building. It was easier to find a place to Apparate from, since they could pick anywhere and not be startling anyone in the small wizarding town. They walked a short way from the hotel and Draco looked to Harry, silently asking if he were ready to go or not. Not that he had a choice whether they left or not, Harry nodded, and he watched Draco close his eyes and then a moment later he was gone. Harry sighed, closed his own eyes, pictured Draco in his mind, and followed.

When Harry reappeared beside Draco, he was a bit surprised to find that his stomach wasn’t even a bit upset, unlike most other times they’d Apparated. Maybe he was finally getting used to Apparating, he thought. Draco gave him a moment anyway to let them both adjust to their surroundings before they walked out onto the street they were facing. The Slytherin had ducked into the closest alley when he arrived, because at first glance, there seemed to be more Muggles than wizarding folk in this area. Then, Draco paused, a thought crossing his mind, and Harry barely noticed the blond had stopped before he walked past him. “What?”

Draco frowned, turning to look the other way down the street for a moment before he answered. “I actually don’t know where we are,” he admitted.

“What?” Harry asked again, though with a more incredulous touch to his voice. “What do you mean you don’t know where we are? That means we could be back where we started, somewhere we’ve already been!”

“Do keep your voice down, Potter: I thought we were supposed to be keeping a low profile?” he asked, an old sneer coming to his face at the question, and Harry knew Draco was quite annoyed at him at the moment. Once Harry had settled, Draco continued. “What I mean to say is that I’m not sure whether we’re in Omsk or Tomsk. My father took me to both, and apparently from what I’ve recalled, they both looked the same.”

“Couldn’t we just ask?” Harry questioned, wishing he hadn’t spoken in such an outburst without letting Draco explain. He supposed it was true that it was a typical Gryffindor response.

“Really, Harry, don’t you believe it’d be odd for two blokes to ask where they are? We’re trying not to gather unwanted attention to ourselves, and being somewhere where we obviously do not belong and asking where we are, does not make for a sane case on our side.” Harry nodded solemnly in understanding, and he looked past Draco, not wanting to look the blond in the eyes at the moment, but he saw something that made him smile. “Harry?” Draco asked as the other boy walked by him. “Harry! Where are you going?” Draco turned and started after the Gryffindor, hoping Harry wasn’t finally going nutters as he walked briskly down the sidewalk, stopping at a booth on the side of the street.

“What the hell, Potter?” Draco demanded. Harry ignored him, picking up a large paper back book and flipping through a few pages before pushing the book at Draco, who eyed it with a bit of distaste. “What’s this, then?”

“This,” Harry started, “is called a phone book. It lists the numbers to get a hold of every person in the city, kind of like the Floo for Muggles. Now, since you’re the one with the Translation Charm, you can read what it says and find out where we are.”

Draco daintily took the book from Harry, trying not to think of how many people, including Muggles, had touched it before him. He scanned the page that Harry had opened, and soon found what they were looking for. “It says we’re in Tomsk.” He quickly handed the floppy book back to Harry and stepped out of the booth they were standing in. “How quaint,” Draco commented as he spared a glance at the whole setup before turning to head down the street. Thankfully they hadn’t needed to search for their lodgings because the areas Draco had been in were full of shops, taverns and hotels, but they walked quite a way down the street before they found somewhere to stay.

When they’d come across somewhere that was moderately acceptable to Draco in the Muggle area, since they hadn’t found anything that was strictly wizarding, the blond opened the door and walked in, leaving Harry to catch the door and hold it open himself. Draco was almost done at the front desk by the time Harry reached his side, and the blond turned around to him. “Come on,” he said, gesturing ahead of himself to the lift that the woman at the desk had pointed out to him. The hotel was certainly owned by Muggles, and Draco seemed to keep his distance from even the walls, and everything but Harry as they made their way to their room.

Draco inserted the key, turned it, and used his wand to swing the door open in front of him. Harry watched him curiously as they entered the room. It didn’t look particularly bad, but Harry frowned as Draco seemed to look for a specific place to set the bag. After that, Draco seemed to circle the room, investigating everything, his lips curling slightly when he realized there was no fireplace, and that the pictures on the walls were still. “Are you alright, Draco?” Harry asked from where he’d sat on the bed.

“I’m fine, just irritated.” He didn’t elaborate on why, but it was quite clear to Harry that Draco was a bit uncomfortable in a Muggle environment. Anything that Draco noted the difference between wizard and Muggle, Harry barely noticed. Even with all the time he’d spent in the wizarding world since his eleventh birthday, he still didn’t find it hard to function when he went back to the Dursleys in the summer. He was relieved when he was back at school, but that was more to be away from his hateful family than to be around magic again. He understood Draco’s apprehension, since he’d been raised to despise Muggles and their ways, but at least he wasn’t spouting spiteful names and slurs at them. At least he’s trying, Harry thought.

Draco placed wards on the door and window like he usually did, and then headed into the bathroom. Harry looked around at the room, really not seeing anything different than usual about it, but maybe he was just missing subtle things that Draco was getting his knickers in a twist about. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his robes before lying across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A few minutes later, Draco was back and he sat down beside Harry’s head, leaning over to pull out a packet of crisps from their bag. He opened them and ate a few before Harry interrupted him, with a crisp halfway to his mouth. “Can I have one?”

The blond looked down at him, and changed the direction of his hand, and before Harry knew it, the crisp was at his lips and he opened his mouth to take the food. He almost wanted to laugh at Draco, but knew that wouldn’t be the best idea when the blond was testing out more intimate waters at the time being. They shared a few more crisps like that, Harry looking a bit expectant when he was finished chewing each time, until he was sated, and Draco put the bag away. It was quiet for a while; Harry was simply enjoying the silence and getting a bit of rest in, while Draco seemed lost in his thoughts. Harry sat up and looked at the blond, whose eyes hadn’t even flickered when Harry moved.

“Alright?” Harry asked him, hoping he wasn’t distracting Draco from anything important on his mind.

Draco nodded after Harry asked, as if he hadn’t been preoccupied only a second before. They sat there for another few minutes, Harry watching Draco, wondering what was on his mind. Draco had been oblivious to his observer for several minutes before he seemed to catch sight of Harry in his peripheral vision, and he took a breath before he spoke. “There was a Quidditch game today.”

“How do you know?” Harry asked, marveling that Draco seemed to be keeping track of time, and of Quidditch games, no less.

“It’s Saturday,” he said, not elaborating. Harry had all but forgotten about what day it may be, even what time it was; without being on a schedule at school, he had no reason to know what day it was. Another part of him felt a bit like he wasn’t pulling his weight on this stupid adventure, not even keeping track of something as simple as the days. “I think it should be Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor. Disregarding their win over Slytherin,” Draco said with a touch of anger to his words, “Hufflepuff won’t be able to keep up a winning streak against the other two houses. Think your team can survive without you?”

Harry scoffed. “Of course,” he said, “we have Ginny to fill in, and Dennis Creevey has been practicing as Seeker, and he’s getting bloody good at it. I’m not afraid of losing my spot, but he is good. They don’t need me to win.” Harry uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him on the bed, leaning back on his elbows to support his body. Draco still sat with his legs over the side of the bed, facing half away from Harry.

“It wouldn’t matter if I was there if Slytherin were playing,” he admitted.

Harry frowned. “Why? You fly really well, Draco.” It wasn’t a lie, and they both knew it. Whenever they’d come head to head chasing the Snitch, it was always a close match. Draco could follow him anywhere on the pitch, just as quick, just as daring in his moves when he had his mind on the task at hand.

“And that’s why my father bought my way onto the team,” Draco said back, “but I’m shite at Quidditch.” It wasn’t much of a secret that Lucius demanded the very best from his son, and after the first game his father attended, the man had nothing but shame for Draco. Draco had believed he would be a good player, and he knew he could keep up to Harry, the best player on any of their teams at Hogwarts, but that didn’t count for much with the older Malfoy.

“It’s just your strategy,” Harry started. “And the rest of your team,” he sighed. “All the Slytherins care about is the next person they knock off their broom, or their next steal of the Quaffle. Sure, stealing the Quaffle is a good thing, but they need to pass it and have a plan after that point, not just try to force their way down the pitch. I’m sure it works for a lot of the time, and against the other teams it had its strong points and often overpowers them, but against Gryffindor’s strategy, it fails, because we think around Slytherin’s very obvious strategy. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are just too afraid of being hurt to actively take action against it.”

He supposed Harry was right, but to try to talk the rest of the Slytherin team into the same train of thought was mad. It was a bit encouraging to hear something other than how much a waste of money it was for Draco to play Quidditch, though, and he wished he could smile about it. “What do you suppose your mates will say when they find out you’ve been knocking boots with the likes of me, and have gotten knocked up as well?” he asked, changing the subject. He doubted it was a good change, but he hadn’t much to pick from, and he didn’t much want to talk about the other downsides of their endeavor.

Harry frowned at him, wondering why he didn’t want to talk about Quidditch anymore. He knew no one liked to hear about their shortcomings, but he thought it was a safer topic than what Draco had decided to not too subtly bring up. “I have no idea, but it’s bad enough Hermione and Ron know…”

Draco stood up abruptly and interrupted Harry before he got any further. “What the fuck do you mean that Weasel knows about us?” he demanded. “That Mudblood must have figured it out, of course,” Draco said angrily, turning with a dramatic swirl reminiscent of Snape as he lashed out a hand, smacking a lamp off the nightstand. It crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces, startling Harry. He wasn’t used to Draco having outbursts of anger, and he stood up to face the other boy.

“Calm down, Draco,” he said calmly in example, and watched as the other boy stared across the bed at him, temper tamed for a moment. “First off, no matter what goes on between you and me, it doesn’t give you the right to degrade my friends by calling them names.” Just as Harry finished, Draco moved and was about to speak, but Harry held up his hand, a very unimpressed expression on his face at the blond. “I’m not finished,” he added. “And you’re right, I didn’t tell them, they figured it out on their own. They’re not thrilled that we’re doing anything other than fist fighting and throwing hexes at one another, but it’s my life and I make my own choices, and they should understand that. Now, sit down.”

Draco watched Harry sigh and give him an irritated look before sitting back down on the bed himself. He didn’t look at Draco, but the blond knew that Harry was waiting expectantly for him to follow his order. He sat down next to the Gryffindor, and he was glad to see Harry getting a little angry; he missed it, to be honest. He missed the fights they got into, the intensity and adrenalin that it gave them both to fuel their days, or at least that’s how Draco felt about it. After a stretch of silence, Harry still lay there quiet, unmoving, eyes closed with his arms above his head on the bed, but Draco knew he wasn’t asleep. “Look, I’m sorry about losing it, and for calling your friends names.”

Harry cracked his eyes open and looked over at Draco, raising an eyebrow skeptically at the apology the blond had begun. Draco raised one of his own eyebrows back at the dark-haired boy. “You know I’m not going to change overnight,” he countered, “but I’m trying to make an effort, alright? It’s going to take more than a bit of time together or even our child to erase seventeen years of my father’s lectures.” Harry sighed in response, laying an arm over his eyes. He knew Draco was right, but it was still difficult to take at times. It would bother anyone if their partner didn’t like their friends and called them names every other day, even if they had started out enemies like he and Draco had. He just hoped Draco wouldn’t call Ron and Hermione names when their child was present. It struck Harry as a bit hypocritical for Draco if he did though, since the baby wouldn’t even be considered a pureblood, since Harry was only a half-blood.

“Are you hungry, or is the food in our bag enough for tonight?” the blond asked. He didn’t get the feeling Harry wanted to get dressed and go out for food, as he was still in his underwear and made no intention towards moving.

“No, I just want to sleep a bit,” Harry answered, and wondered if Draco would know it was a lie. He’d been getting more and more hungry as each day went by, but he supposed he was trying to ignore it. He had no idea how much money they had and didn’t want to be wandering around where they could run into trouble as each day went by. Draco nodded, even though Harry couldn’t see it through his arm. Draco lay back on the bed and silence descended on the room. Harry thought Draco had fallen asleep and he was surprised when the blond spoke again.

“We’re almost at Durmstrang,” he said. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, but Draco thought it would be better to get their fears into the open so that there would be no surprises. He didn’t know what to say beyond that, and he waited for Harry to say something, make some sort of move towards continuing the conversation or telling him to shut up and go to sleep. Draco was beginning to realize how much he did enjoy the strong opposition that Harry posed to him over the years. He liked someone to stand up to, that was equal, that he didn’t have to be scared of, that he could challenge and have fun with, even if it was in their own way. He couldn’t think of how it might have been if they had been friends from the start.

Harry turned onto his side to face Draco, stirring him out of his thoughts and bringing him back to the conversation that he’d initiated. “I’m a bit scared,” the dark-haired boy said, propping his head on his hand as he looked at the blond. Draco nodded, knowing exactly what Harry meant. Until everything was actually real, when they had something to confront, it didn’t seem so bad that they were walking up to the Dark Lord’s front door. Draco had no doubt that Voldemort was at Durmstrang, and he wondered whether there was some draw for Harry to go to the school other than to find Snape. There was no doubt that Harry’s reasons were completely irrational, but Draco was leery of blaming it all on the pregnancy, but he passed some of it off as changing hormones.

He wasn’t sure if they should even continue on their way to Durmstrang. The Dark Lord may be there, but Snape could have very well decided to head back to Hogwarts, though Draco doubted that. He didn’t have many good thoughts about Dumbledore, but the man didn’t spare a second watching his golden boy, Harry Potter, and surely knew they were missing from school. Of course, in order to protect the boy, he’d have found a way to let Snape know what was going on. Draco wasn’t sure what to expect from the Headmaster; there were a few times when he felt they were being watched, but he couldn’t get a feel for whether it was by Aurors or Death Eaters. He knew his father could find him anywhere if he tried, but he couldn’t see why anyone would be looking for him, and he also couldn’t see how the Aurors could find them when they had little information to go by.

He knew paranoia was within reach, but it slipped away when Harry shifted, and Draco looked over at the other boy who had gotten up and back into bed after pulling back the covers. The blond wondered how long Harry had been watching him, and he felt it odd that he hadn’t been uncomfortable being watched by the other boy. Draco shook his head slightly as he sat up and got ready for bed himself, folding his clothes and setting them on a nearby chair. He was glad they’d abandoned sleeping in their trousers; not only was it uncomfortable, the wrinkles that creased his clothes in the morning were horrid.

Draco pulled the covers over his body and wasn’t surprised when Harry moved closer to him, but when Harry was flush against his side and settled an arm over the blond’s chest, Draco looked over at him. He didn’t say anything, but he watched Harry’s eyes and observed the look he was being given. Draco was beginning to wonder about that look, and he wondered about it even more when Harry offered him a tiny smile before closing his eyes. He had the same look in his own eyes, unbeknownst to himself, and likewise he had no idea that was what prompted the smile. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he closed his own eyes. It was a long while before either of them fell asleep, with fears and doubts running through their minds, danger prevailing in their thoughts.

@>*~

After all the excitement of the Quidditch game, most of the students that had been in attendance were in bed, but by half past eleven the final stragglers were heading to their common rooms from the Great Hall, including Ron and Hermione. “It was great of Professor Dumbledore to let us all stay in the Great Hall after supper,” Hermione said as Ron stopped to open the portrait door and gestured for Hermione to enter the Gryffindor common room before him. She had a suspicion the Headmaster had simply wanted to keep everyone distracted and mostly in one place for the time being, perhaps to draw attention away from Hogwarts’ missing students. It was more than an after-party for the Quidditch game, as students from all houses stayed after supper to chat and play games, and take their mind off of everything in general. Another reason Hermione approved of the celebration and get-together having taken place there was that she didn’t have to clean anything up in the common room; she hated to leave it all for the house-elves.

As prefects, Ron and Hermione had to break up a few fights and some raucous behaviors, but nothing out of the ordinary. They hadn’t been expecting to break people apart as soon as they walked into Gryffindor Tower. “Oi! Seamus, get your paws off your pot of gold, there,” Ron said as they walked into the room to see Seamus and Dennis all but shagging each other right on one of the couches in the common room. Ron shook his head, though with a grin on his face, as he reprimanded his friend. Hermione was busy shooing some first years up to bed, and telling them porkies about what the older boys had been doing, but Ron doubted they believed a word of it.

“Honestly, you two,” Hermione said with a note of annoyance to her voice, “get upstairs and do whatever it is you do in private.” She proceeded to shoo them out of the room, too. With their footsteps going up the stairs, Hermione pulled Ron down onto the couch. Ron sat down and put his arm around his girlfriend, leaning in for a kiss as they heard a moan come from the stairwell. “Upstairs!” Hermione yelled, as Ron rolled his eyes and kissed her again. She was no prude, despite what some other girls may say, but it really only mattered to herself what she did or didn’t do in bed. It wasn’t a personal reason to tell the boys to go somewhere private, but to save innocent eyes; on the other hand, she just wanted the common room to themselves, as they couldn’t go anywhere private together upstairs without an audience of their own.

The fireplace had been dying down and they parted lips to cuddle against each other as they watched the embers glow in the grate. The room was getting a little cool, and Hermione pressed closer to Ron, enjoying his body heat. Ron lifted a hand to pull her chin towards him and leaned down again to place a chaste kiss on her lips. He had meant it to be a good night kiss before they parted for the night, but he was a bit surprised to realize Hermione had other plans when she turned her body towards him, kissing him again and sliding her tongue along his slack lips before he opened them for her tongue to dip inside. Ron was getting turned on just from the kissing, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t going to stop there when Hermione pulled away.

“I want you,” Hermione breathed out against Ron’s neck, kissing it softly, making the boy’s eyes fall closed. “Where can we go?” she asked, moving higher to flick her tongue over his ear lobe. They couldn’t very well stay in the common room where anyone could walk in and see them, including McGonagall, so that was definitely out, not to mention they’d be very hypocritical after kicking Seamus and Dennis out for wanting to do the exact same thing. Hermione sighed, a little disappointed, against Ron’s cheek before giving him another quick kiss on the lips, leaning back to look at him.

“I think I might be able to sneak you in,” Ron said when he had found his voice. He took her hands in his and moved them from his shoulders onto her lap before he stood up from the couch and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. “I’ll be right back,” he called down to her when he was halfway up. Hermione smiled after him and tried to sit patiently. It only took a minute before Ron came back, but he didn’t look too happy as he crossed the common room back to her. “I went through Harry’s trunk, but he probably took his invisibility cloak with him,” he explained. “Maybe you can Transfigure your clothes into something boyish?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, and stood from the couch, simply pushing him back towards the stairs. “I doubt that would work, Ron,” she said, walking around him to grab his hand and lead him upstairs. “Was anyone awake?” Ron shook his head, following Hermione, who smiled. When they reached the door to the seventh year boys’ dormitory, she saw an empty bed, curtain still open, and assumed it was Seamus’ bed, since Harry’s empty bed was beside Ron’s. Seamus must have been in the fourth years’ dormitory with Dennis. She hoped they had added a Silencing Charm around the bed, or the fourth years wouldn’t be getting much sleep. A quick glance at the other side of the room, and all the other curtains were closed.

They walked slowly and as silently as possible to Ron’s bed. When they were beside it, Hermione felt Ron press up against her from behind, from chest to groin, and she moaned without thinking and pushed her backside into him. She let out a gasp and then covered her mouth quickly, shooting a look behind her at Ron as a warning. They really didn’t want to wake anyone up and were almost blowing it by making too much noise. Pulling back the curtains, Hermione crawled into the bed and watched Ron shrug his robe off before kneeling on the bed and pulling the curtains shut behind him.

On his knees in front of her, Ron undid the clasp on her robe and pushed it off her shoulders so it fell down her arms as she shrugged out of it, tossing it to the end of the bed. Before she knew it, Ron had her shirt untucked and lifted up above her breasts, and she breathed in when she felt his hands on them. Hermione opened her mouth in a silent moan at the contact, even through her bra. Suddenly, she pushed Ron’s hands away, and he looked confused while she dug through a pocket on her discarded robe; she pulled out her wand and waved it around the curtain. “Silencio,” she whispered, and Ron’s look went away, and his hands came back, making Hermione drop her wand to the side with her robes.

Hermione smiled, and that smile turned into a giggle, making Ron pause. “What’s so funny?” he asked, wondering if he had done something stupid that had made her laugh at what he was doing. Ron worried for a second as she laughed a little harder before he remembered no one could hear them.

“Just this whole thing,” she said. Ron didn’t like the sound of that, and his face must have clearly conveyed that thought. “Sneaking around,” Hermione clarified. She didn’t add that it was weird without Harry, and weird that they weren’t necessarily doing something out of bounds, but not necessarily permitted, either.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, praising his luck at being with Hermione at all, “but even if we did get caught, I wouldn’t be ashamed.”

Hermione blushed and leaned forward to kiss Ron to hide the color coming to her cheeks. She licked at his lower lip, coaxing his mouth open for her to slip her tongue inside, sliding it along his own. Hermione’s hands slid down Ron’s chest to the hem of his jumper, and without Ron even realizing, she pulled away and yanked it over his head. He quickly overcame his surprise and closed the gap between them, more clothes falling forgotten to the end of the bed. Her shirt came next, and their lips were barely apart for a second before it joined Ron’s jumper to keep it company. Hermione had a moment to breathe when Ron moved lower, mouthing along her breast, wetting her bra with saliva. She sighed in pleasure at the contact and the air cooling the wet fabric when he moved away.

Ron reached behind her to undo the clasp, pulling the straps forward and down her arms, exposing her bare skin. He barely took a moment to spare to simply look at her breasts before be began to lick and suck gently at Hermione’s nipples, back and forth, with one hand massaging one breast while he was lavishing attention on the other. Hermione’s breathing kept getting louder, and suddenly she pushed Ron away to be able to reach the button on his trousers, popping it out of its hole, and working the zipper down. Ron moaned when Hermione’s hand brushed his straining erection inside his boxers, and as much as he didn’t want to pull away from that feeling, he moved back to be able to push his trousers down his legs, hooking his thumbs in his socks to take them off as he went, and kicked his shoes off, dropping each of them alongside the bed to the floor.

Hermione had taken her skirt off while he’d been busy, but she’d taken her knickers off as well. She took a moment, smiling as she felt Ron’s eyes on her body, to unlace her shoes and take them and her socks off. When she finished, Hermione turned back to find he still had his boxers on, little Quidditch brooms zooming around on the fabric. Hermione smiled at them in amusement, almost giggling, and Ron looked down indignantly at himself before he remembered his boxers, and grinned sheepishly, knowing they certainly had to do something about that. She brought herself onto her knees to get closer to Ron, and grasped the waistband on his underwear, pulling them downwards, little brooms knocking into each other, to expose his cock. Ron took a moment to get the hint and lift his bottom for Hermione to be able to pull them all the way down, but he had gotten quite distracted by her slightly spread legs, and Hermione’s hands moving along his hips and thighs.

Once his boxers were tossed aside and both of them were naked, Hermione leaned down to Ron lying on his back and continued their kissing. Hermione enjoyed the moan from her lover as her breasts pressed down against his chest, prompting his hands to move from where they’d been on her hips to her breasts. They could barely pull themselves away from each other, nor did they want to, but Hermione wanted to try something, and she reluctantly stopped the kiss and turned around so that her rear faced Ron, and she was left looking at his cock. Hermione bit her lip for a moment, hearing Ron whisper, “Hermione?”

He knew his mates couldn’t hear him, but it was late in the night, and it seemed to warrant the hushed tones, even though he could scream at the top of his lungs and no one would hear a peep of it. Ron thought he knew what was coming when Hermione turned, but he still had to wonder what was coming, and just hoped it wouldn’t be him so soon. He couldn’t see Hermione smile as she took hold of his cock, even if his eyes hadn’t closed at the sensation, and he gasped when she pulled a little, stroking the skin under her hand. She felt Ron’s body tense at what they both knew was ahead, and Hermione went lower, giving a shy lick to the already moist tip of Ron’s cock. Ron gasped again at the feel of her tongue licking the head of his cock, and he almost couldn’t believe she’d actually done that for him.

Judging by Ron’s reaction, Hermione let her uncertainties fade away, even though she’d never done this before. She’d heard a few older girls talking about it over the years, but she’d never heard much detail, mostly just catching snippets of conversation. The library and even the Restricted Section didn’t carry books on the subject, she’d actually looked, so she was on her own. As she gave another lick, a longer, more adventurous, teasing lick, Ron moaned and barely restrained thrusting his cock upwards at the wet touch, and she definitely didn’t think she was horrible at it.

Hermione slowly moved her head down, licking along the way, and kept going until Ron’s cock was all the way in her mouth, but she promptly gagged when it hit the back of her throat. Ron didn’t seem to notice, only sucking in a breath at the tightness around his head as it went as far as it could in her mouth, and that made Hermione feel better. She pulled back, letting her lips close around the thick length in her mouth and slide over the sensitive member. Hermione didn’t have time to take her mouth away before she felt movement behind her, and before she knew it, two of Ron’s fingers slid inside of her, making her moan around his cock.

Ron whimpered at the vibrations her moan created, and she pulled back slowly, giving the tip another lick before sitting up, turning to face Ron again, and throwing a leg over his body to straddle him. She reached down and held his cock for a moment to position it, and then sank down onto his length. They both moaned at the feeling, Ron’s cock being enveloped in warm, moist heat, Hermione being filled, his cock rubbing against all the right spots. Ron’s hands came back to Hermione’s hips, tightening almost painfully around them as he tried very hard not to come, looking up at his beautiful girlfriend above him.

Hermione knew what his actions were saying, and as much as she wanted to move, she waited for Ron, watching him take a couple ragged breaths before nodding to her, giving her the go ahead to keep moving. She smiled and settled her hands on Ron’s chest, lifting up her arse, pulling his cock out halfway before sitting back down. Hermione continued to ride him slowly until he began encouraging her with moans and nods, and thrusts into her to go faster and faster. Ron had recovered from his close call, and he thought Hermione must have been getting tired from the way she was breathing, a slight sheen of sweat on her body.

Ron didn’t think anyone could look any sexier than Hermione did right now, and he sat up suddenly, surprising her, and turned them over, laying her on her back. They were separated for only a second, but when Ron slid himself back inside of Hermione, it felt like the first thrust all over again, making them moan. Hermione took advantage of the break, and it made it all the more pleasurable for her to be able to relax and throw her head back while enjoying the hard thrusts into her body and Ron’s against her own. He was making little noises into her neck at every other thrust, kissing and nipping occasionally at the salty skin on Hermione’s neck as they both came closer and closer to their release. Ron finally gasped out a moan when he came, Hermione humming in pleasure, her body clenched hard around his length as she reached her orgasm.

Hermione held Ron tightly to her chest as they both regained their breath. After a moment, Ron moved from on top of Hermione, lying down in her place as she sat up and reached for her clothes. As much as she’d like to stay and cuddle, it was technically against school rules, and being a Prefect, Hermione needed to set an example and not be caught in the boys’ dormitory in the morning if one of the other boys chose to wake Ron the next day. She put her shirt on and leaned down to give Ron a quick kiss before she finished getting dressed. “Good night, Ron,” she said, smiling.

“Night, Hermione,” Ron replied, smiling back at her before she took down the Silencing Charm around his bed and pushed the curtain aside, letting it fall shut behind her. Ron didn’t hear her at all as she left the room, except for a barely audible click as the door shut behind her. He sighed to himself before finding his boxers, putting them on, and pulling the covers up over him. He wished Hermione could stay with him, fall asleep in his arms, but he knew it was not really allowed. He frowned for a moment, not quite comfortable, and he reached under his back, fishing for a moment before pulling out the offending item. Hermione had left her bra, unable to find it since Ron had been lying on it at the time. In her haste, she simply left it. Ron smiled as he stuck it under his pillow and closed his eyes before he drifted off to sleep.

@>*~