This is the Way I Pray

Response to ZooArmy's "Odd Quotes" Challenge. Number 12:

Prompt P1: “Yeah, dude, I decided to become religious so last night I tried praying and when I woke up this morning, it was like I was reborn. I couldn’t remember anything that even happened before I prayed.”
P2: “Dude, I think that’s called amnesia.”

WARNINGS If anyone is offended by religious cracks (some are directly aimed at believing, prayer, Jesus, and God) then DO NOT READ THIS. The views expressed and things said in this story are in no way representative of my own beliefs. If you want to know what I believe, ask me. But this is the way the story played out in my head, what all of the characters said, etc, to make the prompt work and the story flow.

If you have something to say about this in a review, that's fine, but please remember that it is TOTALLY NOT my intention to offend anyone.

Also, the mentions of the BSU and Wesley Foundation here are purely for entertainment purposes and are not meant to be representative of either organization, good or bad. I needed two religious organizations, and those are the two with whom I have the most experience, so that's why they got chosen.

As far as I am aware, there is no such fraternity as Gamma Alpha Upsilon (see end notes). This is an entirely fictional fraternity that was made up in my head, and any resemblance to a real fraternity is purely coincidental.

This is the Way I Pray by Graballz

“Harry! Harry, you’ve GOT to see this!”

Harry Potter threw his pen down on his notebook and psychology book. He had been trying to study for his final, but the sound of his boyfriend’s excited footsteps thundering up the stairs in their apartment shattered his concentration. He hissed, wrenching his glasses from his face and rubbing his eyes, trying to banish the frustration before Draco arrived. He was just putting his glasses on again when Draco appeared at the door of the second bedroom that doubled as the office, flushed and panting slightly, pale blonde hair sexily mussed but not quite out of place, grey eyes sparkling and a bright white smile that stretched from ear to ear. He was clutching a flyer and began waving it at Harry.

“What is it this time, Draco?” Harry felt immediately contrite for the snappish tone. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that he was overly enthusiastic about whatever happened to catch his fancy at that moment, only to be dropped a short time later in favor of something that was more ‘in vogue’. It also wasn’t his fault that America was such a big, shiny place with so many more options and choices than they had had in England.

If anything, Harry blamed himself; he was the one who wanted a change after defeating Voldemort, and going to a Muggle American college seemed like the perfect thing. They would be anonymous and far away from England. Draco resisted at first, bristling at the thought of leaving his home country, but as soon as the Daily Prophet crucified them for living together after the danger, he was more than ready to leave. It was one thing, apparently, to be secreted away in Grimmauld Place while Voldemort still loomed, dark and threatening, but for them to want to reside in the same place after…needless to say, the British wizarding world didn’t react as Harry had hoped to the knowledge that the infamous seven-year grudge between Harry ‘the Chosen One’ Potter and Draco ‘the Amazing Bouncing Ferret’ Malfoy had not only been killed and buried along with Voldemort, but that they had found true love in the confines of Harry’s inheritance.

Ginny had been unable to understand, and finally her father had to take her wand away at Harry’s insistence because she would cast hexes at Draco every time she saw him, which wasn’t all that often, but Harry drew the line when she uttered an Unforgivable. He knew then that he would never be forgiven for his ‘betrayal’, and Ron, Harry was sorry to realize, sided with his sister, acted faintly disgusted over Harry’s preferences, and had never accepted that Draco might have changed over the course of the war. Hermione was disappointed in Harry, that much was clear, but she never got over her intense mistrust of the Slytherin. After Ron stopped speaking to him, Harry decided that leaving England and starting over would be the best course of action. He had lived as a Muggle, sans magic, for eleven years, and he coached Draco through the trauma of putting their wands away for good. The Slytherin had practiced wandless magic on occasion, using it only for small things (like emergency lubrication) and only when no one else was around, and Harry had been content to let that go.

While they hadn’t been given any grief about being gay and wanting to live together, America had brought its own complications to their relationship. Specifically, all of the opportunities in college had captivated Draco, and it seemed as if he intended to try them all. While Harry had been attracted to psychology from the first (as a way to come to terms with the inner workings of his friends’ minds in the hopes that he would be able to understand how they came to the conclusions they did about him and Draco), Draco had flitted from class to class, changing his mind about majors every few days, even though they had only been in college for one semester!

Aside from his inability to commit to a major and his ‘allergic reaction’ to studying, Draco’s newest annoying habit was the extra-curricular activities he chose. It wasn’t that Harry minded WHAT they were; he minded the fact that Draco became totally and obsessively involved in whatever-it-was and expected Harry to be right there with him…for about five days. He went through hobbies at a whirlwind pace that made Harry’s head spin, and he quickly became annoyed when Draco whined, pleaded, and cajoled him into the most recent club or activity.

First it had been a fraternity, which Harry had joined along with Draco, even though they declined to move into the house. That had actually held Draco’s attention for about two weeks, but then he suddenly became too busy with the Drama Club to attend the Gamma Alpha Upsilon meetings, and it was up to Harry to make excuses, apologize, and basically kiss ass to keep his blonde boyfriend from being kicked out. From drama, Draco had moved on to art, and the apartment got cluttered with easels, canvases, clay, paints, oils, charcoal, and even a potters wheel (Harry had been less than amused with Draco’s giggling puns) that never got used. Harry was left to clean up and sell all of the supplies when Draco suddenly became obsessed with working out, and then he tried out for an intramural soccer team. He had a brief fling with drum lessons before attending a couple of student government meetings, only to fall headlong in love with cooking. Draco insisted on making large, five-course meals every night until he found that he would rather write articles for the school newspaper, which ended up being rather fortunate for Harry’s waistline. And for the record, Draco wrote ONE usable article before deciding that the pressure of print deadlines, editing, and proof reading wasn’t worth it.

After more than a few screaming fights, Draco had agreed to curb his enthusiasm and reserve his requirement for Harry’s involvement to only the most important. For Harry’s sake, he had gone back to attending fraternity meetings, and he was just so damn adorable with his lower lip sticking out that only a few stone-hearted brothers were unmoved by his sincere and heartfelt apology for his absence. The other hobby that Draco had found in a relatively short time, and stuck with, was the Chemistry Club. It was the closest thing to Potions that the American university had, and Draco was devoted to it wholeheartedly, but they also didn’t meet very often.

The other ‘important skill’ they had honed was drinking, and the fact that they were technically underage in America made no difference. Harry could choke down anything, while Draco turned his nose up at beer (which almost caused several drunken fistfights at the fraternity house) in favor of wines or cocktails. They had also gotten quite adept at drunken and make-up sex. Harry generally had a wicked hangover headache the next day, while Draco usually didn’t feel a thing. So far, neither of them had gotten drunk to the point of throwing up or blacking out.

Aside from the fraternity, Draco had also talked Harry into playing soccer with him, and even though Draco had to quit due to mysterious knee injuries, Harry rather enjoyed the no-pressure exercise and made the intramural team. He was also in the process of updating and revamping the Psychology Club, and he was hopeful that they would be able to begin meeting after the Christmas holidays. Right now, though, he was up to his ears with his psychology class, since the comprehensive final was coming up sooner than he wanted to acknowledge, and Draco was glowing with excitement, at least, until Harry’s harsh words visibly deflated him. His mouth dropped open, and his silver eyes turned dark and hurt. Harry jumped up from his chair, crossing to his boyfriend and reaching out to him.

“I’m sorry, love; I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized, caressing Draco’s cheek. “It’s just…” he trailed off helplessly, gesturing towards his books.

“It’s just that your stupid class is more important than me,” Draco said angrily, pulling his face away from Harry’s hand and stomping back to the living room. Harry heaved a long-suffering sigh and followed him. It looked like Draco was in one of ‘those’ moods, and Harry would be paying for his slip of the tongue in spades.

“No, Draco, that’s not true,” Harry protested, watching the blonde storm around the room. “You’re the most important thing in my life. I was just frustrated; I’ve been studying too much. What do you have there?”

“You don’t really care. You’re just trying to distract me,” Draco accused, recognizing Harry’s technique, but he came to a halt beside the counter bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.

“I do care, love. I’m just stressing over classes. Please, Draco. I’m sorry. I love you,” Harry held his breath, waiting to see whether his first attempt would break the storm. It did, and Draco gave him a small smile. Harry exhaled in relief, crossing the room in four long strides to encircle Draco in a much-needed hug, kissing his blonde forehead several times in between murmured assurances of love.

“I love you too, you jerk,” Draco mumbled against Harry’s neck, melting into the Gryffindor’s embrace and turning his face up for a make-up kiss. Harry raised one hand to Draco’s jaw, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to Draco’s softly, slowly opening and closing his mouth as he snogged his hot-headed boyfriend into a more relaxed state of bliss.

“Now then, what did you want to tell me? You know I think you’re adorable when you’re excited about something; so go on, show me what it is,” Harry encouraged, reluctantly breaking the kiss, but he was curious. Draco’s eyes blinked lazily as he came out of his stupor, and he smiled serenely before the glitter came back into his eye. He held out the flyer so that Harry could read it too.

“The Wesley Foundation?” Harry read the headline of the flyer, turning confused eyes to Draco, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Harry, they have FREE lunches once a week; plus they’re going on a trip for Spring Break, AND they do fun events like Laser Tag and bowling!” Draco shook the flyer for emphasis. Harry blinked at Draco doubtfully.

“Draco, the last time we went bowling, you dropped the ball on my foot, almost got in a fight with the drunken idiots in the next lane, and spent the entire next day complaining about your sore thumb! I thought we were going to go somewhere exotic for Spring Break. And do you even know what Laser Tag IS?” Even as Harry was talking, he could practically see the pout forming on Draco’s face, and he groaned inwardly.

“Well, they purposely make that hole too small for your thumb! How was I supposed to know it would smash my cuticle? And I do so know what Laser Tag is, and it sounds like fun!” Draco set his jaw stubbornly, turning pleading eyes up to Harry. “You have to take a break from studying to eat anyway, so does it really matter if we eat here or there? Unless, of course, you’re too busy with your nose in the books or you have something against Wesley…”

“The Wesley Foundation is run by the Methodist church, and I have nothing against them, Draco; you bloody well know that,” Harry frowned at the blonde, unmoved by his adorableness. “Suck that lip in; someone could trip on it. You know it doesn’t work on me, anyway.” Draco merely waited, trying not to smile, but he arched a perfect eyebrow in response. Harry groaned, throwing up his hands and sitting on one of the barstools in defeat. “Of course we can go, love. I’m hungry, anyway.” Draco’s face lit up, and he threw his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Yay! Thank you, Harry! I’m going to go get changed!” Draco bounded for their bedroom, leaving Harry glaring after him.

“You little brat! You look fine! You don’t have to change, you drama queen!” Harry hollered after him, half-indignant and half-joking. Not receiving a response, he returned to the office and marked his place in the chapter, tidying up his work space. He wandered through the apartment in search of his keys, wallet, jacket, and cell phone, and flopped onto the couch, leaning his head back and relaxing until Draco was ready.

The great things about their apartment were that it was brand new AND right across the street from the college campus. Harry had arranged for secure and continuous monetary exchanges from Galleons to American dollars to be funneled from Gringotts to their American bank account so that they wouldn’t have to worry about funds. They had originally paid to live in the boys’ dormitory, but after Draco found out that he would have to share communal bathrooms with all of the guys on that floor, he was horrified and insisted on finding something else. The only suitable apartment that met Draco’s standards was across town, and Harry bought a car, having gotten his driver’s license as soon as they arrived in America. After about a month of having to drive back and forth, Harry got fed up with it, quietly purchased an empty lot, and had an apartment complex built on it within another month.

They were beautiful one- and two-bedroom apartments that were cheap enough for students to afford, and Draco, for twisted reasons known only to him, chose an upstairs apartment for them, which meant that the first thing their guests saw upon arriving was a staircase leading up to their flat. The complex filled up quickly, but no one knew that Harry was the owner. He went to great lengths to keep his name separate from the corporation that purchased the lot because he didn’t want anyone to know just how much money he and Draco had, nor did he want a huge fuss made. Now that he wasn’t forced to drive to get to classes, Harry enjoyed driving a lot more.

He had fallen into the typical American “Heaven forbid I should have to walk more than a block to get to my destination” attitude at first, driving to get to a class that would have been a six minute walk. He had an epiphany after attending a student government meeting in which the shrinking number of on-campus parking spaces was becoming a problem, and he left his car in their apartment parking garage, walking to classes again and firmly telling Draco ‘no’ when he begged to be chauffeured because he imagined that the rain made his perfect blonde hair frizzy.

* * * * *


Late November was chilly, but the two boys had heavy jackets and scarves, even though Draco’s black leather jacket was accented with a green and silver scarf while Harry’s brown suede jacket sported a red and gold scarf. They walked quickly, hand in hand, to the Wesley Foundation building, Draco chattering happily about a couple of people he had talked to during his last class who had given him the flyer and invited him to come for lunch. At the door, Draco paused, overcome with a last-minute fit of shyness, and pulled his lower lip between his teeth nervously. Harry was used to it, though, and he leaned in for a delicate kiss to the corner of Draco’s mouth before summoning his Gryffindor courage and stepping inside with Draco in tow.

They were welcomed warmly and directed to the line. Draco looked less and less apprehensive as everyone they made eye contact with smiled encouragingly, and they got their plates and drinks. The blonde spotted the people from his class, and they made their way to sit with them, Draco introducing Harry. The Gryffindor smiled politely and made the requisite small talk, all the while waiting for the ‘catch’.

They had stumbled upon a free lunch given by the Baptist Student Union at the very beginning of the semester and sat through a thirty-minute lecture (well, that’s what it felt like to Harry) about the necessity to be saved from the devil. Harry, who had faced down evil itself and won, was unimpressed with the ‘hellfire and brimstone’ attitude that this particular BSU chapter seemed to embrace, and Draco had had to pull him away from a rather heated discussion after Harry mistakenly answered ‘no’ to the well-meaning question of whether he had been saved. It wasn’t that Harry had anything against Jesus personally; he just didn’t quite know what to make of the way the Muggles embraced their religions so fiercely, since there had been no talk of that sort of thing at Hogwarts. He hated being forced to do or believe things, and the BSU’s approach had rubbed him completely the wrong way.

When a girl got up to speak, Harry tensed, expecting something along the lines of what he had heard before, but he was pleasantly surprised. Her message was one about stewardship and the giving of not only money (which, for most college students, was hard to come by) but of time and service. She outlined several ways in which interested parties could get involved, including helping out with the after-school program they held for younger children or volunteering at the downtown soup kitchen or attending one of the several Bible studies held at the Wesley Foundation. Beside him, he could feel Draco wiggling in his seat, which usually meant that he had heard something and was about to become obsessed with it. He reached back for Harry’s hand, and Harry could feel the excitement coursing through Draco that was punctuated with the little squeezes to Harry’s calloused hand.

As soon as the talk was over, Draco turned to Harry, unable to keep silent any longer.

“Harry! I could start a prayer group!” Draco announced it quietly to his lover, looking as if he expected Harry to jump up and applaud. As it was, Harry’s eyebrows shot up behind his glasses.

“Draco, you’ve never prayed in your life,” he pointed out sensibly.

“It doesn’t seem very hard,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. His grey eyes slid out of focus as he slipped into a daydream about standing up in front of a group of people, the center of attention, all eyes trained on him and everyone absolutely silent, waiting for him to open his mouth and speak the greatest prayer they had ever heard…

“Why don’t you take tonight and think on it?” Harry’s voice broke through Draco’s fantasy and brought him back down to earth. “You can practice praying, and make a firm decision tomorrow.”

“You always want to squash my creativity,” Draco huffed petulantly, but Harry could tell that he wasn’t really that upset.

“Not true. I just don’t want to end up cleaning up another one of your messes once you get bored with this,” Harry smiled knowingly, leaning forward to brush a strand of hair away from Draco’s forehead. “Well, you still have to look at your schedule to see when you’d be available during the week anyway, before you can commit to a prayer group.” Sometimes it was easier just to patronize Draco and go along with his schemes, even though Harry suspected that it would never get that far.

Draco beamed at Harry’s sudden change of heart. He knew that Harry just didn’t get excited about things the way he did, but part of the reason that Draco could throw himself into different projects with joyous abandon was because Harry didn’t. They couldn’t both be dreamers, and Harry was much too practical, which left Draco free to explore his interests, fickle as they might be at times.

Sometimes it irked Draco when Harry didn’t take him seriously, but when he was being honest with himself, Draco admitted that his attention span and passion for most things were rather short-lived. He missed Quidditch, but there really wasn’t a Muggle equivalent for that besides soccer, which was just different here in America from football in England. His passion for Potions hadn’t dimmed in the slightest, and neither had his passion for Harry.

They didn’t linger too much longer after the meal was over; the other students were cleaning up (which Draco wasn’t TOO interested in getting involved with) or heading to their afternoon classes. Even Draco’s overused puppy-dog eyes couldn’t dissuade Harry from heading back to their apartment to study, and Draco headed over to their fraternity house to see what was going on. The brothers were immensely glad to see Draco, since he was unquestionably the best decorator of the group, and he was immediately put in charge of turning the house into a tropical-themed paradise for the Hawaiian Luau party that night. It occupied the blonde for the rest of the afternoon, giving Harry plenty of productive study time, and Draco was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn’t have to beg at all to get Harry to come to the party.

Draco would NEVER have been caught dead in a Muggle Hawaiian shirt that tourists were so fond of and under normal circumstances, he would never have let Harry out in public dressed as such either, but Harry, having zero fashion sense, insisted that it would be okay for that night. Draco let loose his scathing tongue, hoping to shame Harry out of wearing it, when Harry modeled it for him, complete with khakis and sandals, despite the fact that it was cold outside. Harry took the acidity in stride and produced a store-bought coconut bra and grass skirt for Draco’s ‘costume’, which led to Harry dodging small objects being flung as he retreated to the living room to wait for the Slytherin Prince to be ready.

The party was in full swing by the time the boys showed up, Draco dressed to kill in his black leather jacket over a silver Lycra-spandex shirt that clung to his lithe form, paired with fashionably ripped jeans. Harry grabbed a beer and headed to the entertainment room where a couple of games of pool were already underway, and Draco made his way to the bar and got his standard cocktail. They met up an hour later to check in, and Harry determined that Draco was already slightly tipsy. He kissed Harry noisily, causing several wolf whistles and jeers from the crowd. The fraternity that they joined was very liberal and not only tolerated but embraced the ‘alternate lifestyle’ crowd.

Draco and Harry weren’t the only gay boys in the frat, but just as the strictly-heterosexual brothers had fierce pacts not to sleep with a brother’s girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, or sister, so too did the homosexual guys refrain from hitting on the significant others that were in attendance. Draco might be a flirt while drunk, but Harry wasn’t worried in the slightest about the blonde being unfaithful. He would never admit that he sometimes worried about Draco being taken advantage of, but he trusted his fraternity brothers to look out for his boyfriend if he wasn’t around, and they always did.

“You little bastard! You never want me to have any f-fun,” Draco complained cheerfully when Harry found him. “He never wants me to have fun.” The group that Draco was standing with—Tim, Tina, Derek, Scott, Marian, and Maria—all hid smiles behind their glasses. Tina and Marian were steady girlfriends and good friends of a couple of the frat brothers, and Maria had been dating Tim for a month now; they were used to these sorts of statements from Draco.

“Hi, Draco,” Harry responded, kissing the blonde on the cheek and was rewarded with an arm looped around his waist as Draco snuggled under his arm. He always got cuddly when he was pissed.

“Guys, back me up on this. I’m gonna start a prayer gr-group with the Wesley Found—Fou—Found—place,” Draco grinned at them from his place at Harry’s side. Harry merely shook his head and planted another kiss on Draco’s silky hair. He was buzzed himself.

“Prayer? You mean, like, with Jesus and shit?” Tina was the resident atheist in the group, and her tone was borderline sarcastic. Draco gulped the rest of his drink, and Derek handed out the next round of shots. Harry still had half of his beer left, so he declined, but Draco knocked it back like a pro and then fixated drunkenly on Tina.

“Jesus,” he said, suddenly serious. “Is not shit. Your soul could be in trouble, Tina. You could go to H-Hell. We should pray for you right now.” The entire group gave a collective groan as Draco began to fold his hands and bow his head.

“Draco, baby, I’m a lesbian. I have a one-way ticket to Hell,” she laughed, putting her hand on Marian’s ass.

“Don’t start with the soul-saving shit, man, please!” Scott looked at Harry in mock horror. “The BSU already shoves it down our throats every chance they get without you doin’ it too.” Scott had been at the BSU lunch with Draco and Harry that first time and had been just as displeased.

“Yeah, Draco,” Tim agreed. “You have more important things to shove down your throat.”

“Like Harry’s cock!” Tina added, which set the entire group laughing. Draco turned a pale pink while Harry flushed deep red, knowing that he should be used to those kinds of jokes from the Americans, but it still embarrassed him just the same.

“Don’t deny it, you dirty little English boy!” Marian teased.

“He can’t; he’s hard just talking about it!” Tim exclaimed, knowing (from past parties but not actual experience) that being inebriated increased Draco’s libido, and being fraternity brothers, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to rib him about it. Tim pulled Maria closer as if to reassert his own sexual orientation.

“Draco’s going to be praying hard tonight,” Derek piped up, smirking as Draco grabbed a double shot. “On his knees and everything.”

“But will he be giving his ‘tithes and offerings’ to Harry or will he get some practice praying to the porcelain god?” Scott offered, and the group began shouting drunken guesses which Scott, ever the bookie, jotted down in his Palm Pilot, taking bets and giving odds. Harry began to laugh hard and couldn’t stop, and Draco kept shooting alcohol and giggling.

“Hey, slow down, tiger,” Marian advised Draco. “You don’t want to light the altar on fire only to have to put it out with holy water.” Marian had grown up Catholic. Everyone paused. Tina squinted at her girlfriend.

“What the bloody ‘ell are you saying, woman?” She mimicked Harry’s and Draco’s English accents and diction. “Ewwww, that’s gross!”

“What? If Draco keeps drinking like that, he’s going to puke and pass out before he gets the chance to blow Harry,” Marian explained. While they all talked like this every time they were drunk, Draco still covered his mouth with his hand as if shocked. “What did you THINK I meant?”

“Oh…I was thinking…you know…holy water,” Tina gestured towards Harry’s crotch, and everyone groaned again. Todd, another fraternity brother with a more off-the-wall sense of humor than anyone Harry or Draco had ever met before, walked up just in time to catch the last couple of exchanges.

“Y’all are like crack addicts without their heroin,” he proclaimed. “And why are we fixating on Harry’s dick again? If it’s that goddamn interesting, he should just whip it out, show us, and get it over with.”

“Nuh-uh. No fuckin’ w-way. I protest, and I forb-bid that,” Draco suddenly spoke up loudly. “I’m the on-only one who gets to fix—fix—think about Harry’s dick. You wankers don’ get to. Stop thinking about it ri-right now. Stop it. Right now.” Draco swayed drunkenly, glaring at the entire group. Everyone was silent for about thirty seconds as they tried not to look guilty and failed. Disgusted, Draco broke away from Harry and left the room in a huff. Harry smiled apologetically and went after him, knowing that the blonde was drunk and therefore irrational, as well as pretty unsteady.

He caught up with Draco halfway up the stairs to the rooms where the brothers lived in the house. Draco was muttering to himself and clutching the banister, and he ignored Harry’s attempts to pull him out of his thoughts. He barged into Mark’s room and grabbed the almost-full bottle of vodka from Mark’s mini-fridge and downed three mouthfuls before Harry was able to wrest it away from him. Mark was Draco’s ‘Big Brother’ in the house, and he always kept hard liquor on hand. He was, like always, seated at his computer, playing some online war game that neither Harry nor Draco had any interest in, having lived through a war already. He never minded them coming up to his room or drinking his alcohol; Harry always gave him money the next day to pay for whatever Draco consumed or bought him another bottle if Draco finished it off.

Draco collapsed onto Mark’s futon couch, disoriented and completely plastered now. Harry gingerly sat on the edge, smoothing Draco’s hair back, feeling a pang of sympathy for his boyfriend.

“Dude, Draco, if you’re gonna puke, go to the trashcan,” Mark swung around from his computer to take a look at his ‘Little Brother’. Harry’s head shot up, and he closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him for his fast movement.

“You think he’s gonna…” Harry looked back and forth from Mark to Draco in alarm.

“I’d bet on it,” Mark surveyed Draco carefully. He was a couple of years older than the two freshmen, as were most of the fraternity brothers, except for Scott from their group. “First time prayin’ to Ralph?”

“What?” Harry squinted at Mark.

“Ralph…you know, another word for puke? Worshipping at the porcelain altar,” Mark smirked, and Harry nodded in understanding. Draco was uncharacteristically silent through their whole conversation, having to concentrate on keeping his eyes open, his head up, and then he started to feel sick. Luckily, Mark had his own bathroom, so at least Draco could get sick in relative privacy.

“Har-Harry,” he slurred, reaching out clumsily for the blurry form of his boyfriend. “Don’ feel good.”

“Oh, dude, get him to the toilet! He’s gonna blow!” Mark exclaimed, and Harry, whose concern for Draco had sobered him up some, jumped into action, pulling Draco from the couch easily and practically carrying him to the bathroom. Draco sank to his knees, slumping against the toilet when Harry tried to let him go, and he had to act quickly to lower Draco gently. Mark followed, lifting the toilet lid and seat and grabbing a few towels for Draco to use later. He patted Harry on the shoulder and left, thoughtfully shutting the door behind him.

Harry supported Draco as the blonde leaned against his chest, head lolling over the open toilet. Draco sniffed a few times, and Harry tried to look under his blonde fringe at his face. Draco rolled his head around to look Harry in the eyes, and Harry saw that Draco was, in fact, crying slightly.

“M’sorry, Harry,” he whimpered. “I put you through so much shit. You deserve better…” Draco’s voice broke, and he trailed off.

“No, baby, no,” Harry’s brow furrowed at Draco’s behavior. “You’re way more than I deserve. I don’t know how I got so lucky that you fell in love with the likes of me, but no, love, I’m the one who’s not worthy of YOU.”

“No,” Draco shook his head violently, sending a couple of his tears splattering onto Harry’s face and neck. “I push you into lotta stuff that you don’ wanna do. Then you end up do-doin’ it even after I quit. I don’t listen when you say you hafta study, an-and I bother you. I get m-mad at you over dumb stuff that doesn’t m-matter, and you’re Harry fuckin’ Potter. Who gets mad at Harry fuckin’ Potter? I do, cuz I’m a wanker and a no-good Slyth-therin. Jus’ like my fa-father…”

Harry was about to protest, hurt and angry and absolutely against what Draco was saying about himself when Draco suddenly dropped his head down and heaved into the toilet. Anything Harry was going to say was abruptly shoved from his mind as he focused on keeping Draco supported adequately as his body shook and purged itself of the alcohol and whatever food was in Draco’s stomach. He spent several long minutes dry heaving, spitting strings of saliva and bile into the toilet with difficulty, wracked by heart-wrenching sobs. Harry couldn’t stand to see Draco in that much pain, and he pulled the boy to his chest, not caring whether Draco threw up on him or not. He just needed to hold Draco, and the blonde let himself be cuddled close.

“Draco, you are nothing like your father,” Harry whispered fiercely, tears smarting behind his glasses. “You changed, you grew up, and you were reborn into a better person. You’re so much better than your fucking father; he was a coward and a sell-out, and you are so much stronger than him. I’m glad you get mad at me over small stuff! All of my life, everyone has always bent the rules or given in to me because of who I am! You were and are the only one who has never let me get away with anything because of who I’m supposed to be, and I love that! I love that, Draco, and I want you to continue to call me out on it.

“I’m just a stick-in-the-mud, Draco, and you help me be adventurous! You broaden my horizons with everything that you want to do, and I love it! I really don’t even mind when you interrupt me, because you are so much more important than any class, any books, and any test. I love spending time with you because you are my better half, Draco Malfoy, whether you like it or not! And you’re stuck with me!” Harry sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom and clung to Draco tightly, rocking him comfortingly, feeling his tears spill down his cheeks about halfway through his speech. Draco stirred long enough to blearily glance up at Harry from the corner of his eye and attempt to smile.

“Love you,” he whispered hoarsely and then promptly passed out curled in Harry’s arms. Harry half-laughed in relief that at least his words had somewhat penetrated Draco’s addled brain enough that he didn’t feel bad anymore. He kept one arm around his lover as he flushed the toilet with the other and wiped the drool, puke, snot, and tears from Draco’s face with a towel. He figured Draco would be suffering an awful hangover the next day, if he drank enough to warrant throwing up.

Harry carefully gathered Draco up and moved him to Mark’s room. Mark had already pulled the futon into a bed and had left the bedside lamp on for them, as well as two bottles—water and aspirin. He had shut his computer down and climbed up into his loft bed that was suspended from the ceiling, and Harry whispered a ‘thank you’ for the permission to stay the night. He laid Draco down, shaking the blonde enough to get him to choke down two pills and a swig of water, took a dose of medicine himself, and pulled Draco into ‘spoon’ mode proper, curling one arm under Draco’s head for support as he tightly encircled the slender waist. A brush of his lips across Draco’s hair and a mouthed ‘I love you’ into the back of Draco’s head, and Harry sighed, letting sleep overtake him.

* * * * *

An insistent tickling in his nose was what finally dragged Harry into miserable consciousness. Sometime in the night, Harry had turned onto his back, and Draco had flopped over on him. The blonde’s head was pretty much tucked under his chin, and his fine hair was splayed all over Harry’s nose and mouth. He groaned, bringing his hand up to wipe his face clean, feeling little needles of pain explode inside his head. He felt like shit, there was a nasty taste in his mouth, and Draco was making it hard for him to breathe. Then Harry realized that they weren’t in their own bed, and that’s when he remembered Draco passing out in Mark’s room.

He rested his hand heavily on Draco’s head. The blonde didn’t so much as stir, and Harry cracked his eyes open enough to see that a little bit of light was streaming in around Mark’s heavy shade. He had no idea what time it was and almost reflexively cast a Tempus spell, stopping himself just in time. He tried to remember what classes he and Draco had today, but thinking hurt, so he just decided that it didn’t matter; they obviously wouldn’t be attending them today, and Harry could figure it out later. He was glad that he left the water and aspirin in arm’s reach, and he carefully fumbled for a couple more capsules before going back to sleep.

He woke up again to voices talking quietly but cheerfully. Harry inhaled sharply through his nose as he yawned, becoming aware of the absence of his boyfriend from the bed. He turned his head from side to side, stretching a little, as he tried to suss out the source of conversation. Draco was sprawled on Mark’s floor, explaining his revelations from yesterday and last night. Harry smiled to hear Draco’s diction; he tended to use more Americanisms when talking to Mark than the other frat brothers, Harry noticed.

“Yeah, dude, I decided to become religious so last night I tried praying and when I woke up this morning, it was like I was reborn. I couldn’t remember anything that even happened before I prayed.” Draco’s tone was quiet and yet somewhat perversely proud.

“Dude, I think that’s called amnesia,” Harry responded, rolling to his side and smiling at his surprised boyfriend.

“Harry, you’re awake,” Draco observed happily.

“Dude, I think that’s called a blackout,” Mark corrected, his computer chair squeaking just a little as he turned to face a now-awake Harry. “You psychology nuts, you want to diagnose everybody and their grandmother. Draco doesn’t have amnesia; he just drank too much.”

“Yeah, he prayed to the porcelain god last night,” Harry smirked. He still felt slightly ‘off’, but at least his head didn’t hurt quite as much. “Hey, Draco, that can be the ‘prayer group’ that you start.”

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco teased back, sticking his tongue out. He didn’t seem to be any worse for the wear, and Harry hated him immensely for it…for about a second. He did envy the Slytherin’s ability to not have a hangover, though. For the moment, Harry was content to lay on his side and watch Draco.

“Not in my room, dude,” Mark broke in. Draco stuck his tongue out at him too, and Harry grinned wider.

“Morning, Marcus. Thanks for letting us crash last night,” Harry smiled at the other boy. Mark shrugged in response.

“Of course. It was nothing. Just glad no…er, sacrifices were made on my floor when Draco decided he might be able to channel spirits,” Mark made his pun with an entirely straight face, and had Harry not known Mark better, he would’ve missed the subtlety completely.

“Markie, you didn’t,” Draco groaned. “I’m way too hung-over for your bad jokes, dude.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry fake-snarled. “You’re not even hung-over, and you had SO much more to drink than I did! Brat.”

“He puked, though, the lucky bastard, and got all of the alcohol out of his system,” Mark explained. Draco raised his eyebrow at being called ‘lucky’.

“If the way I felt last night is to be considered ‘lucky’, then I would positively HATE to know what ‘unlucky’ is like,” he said seriously.

“C’mere, and I’ll show you,” Harry offered, and Mark laughed in sympathy.

“Harry, ol’ boy, I know how you feel. Getting hit by a bus would be a kinder fate,” Mark glanced at the clock and got up. “Speaking of fate, I have to leave for class, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Draco, be good to that man. He did a damn fine job of taking care of you last night, so you better return the favor or I’ll kick your ass. You haven’t lived until you’ve woken up covered in your own puke and having no memory of the night before, let me tell you. Existential, dude. Makes you question your own existence. Later.”

With a smile and a wave, Mark grabbed his book bag and left the room. He was a philosophy major, so he was always waxing poetic about existing and the meaning of life and that sort of thing. Draco shook his head, smiling. He knew Mark was only semi-serious about the ass-kicking; his ‘Big’ was very non-aggressive in real life, even though he played online war games. Draco rose to his feet smoothly and fetched the tube of toothpaste for Harry, putting a dollop on his finger and letting Harry lick it off suggestively. The black haired boy reached for the water again and took a long pull, sighing, and then he started to get up to go to the bathroom. Draco helped him; Harry was perfectly capable of moving around on his own, but Draco had been given orders to take care of ‘that man’, and he had plans that fit those orders to a tee.

Harry relieved himself in the bathroom, glancing longingly at the shower, but resigning himself to get home to clean up. Draco was up and ready to go by the time Harry was done, and he wedged himself under his Gryffindor’s arm, partly to ‘help’ and partly because he wanted to be in close proximity to Harry. They ambled downstairs, smiling at the sight of their friends still passed out or moving around slowly and blearily, and walked towards home, chatting about what classes they skipped today.

“So, Draco, are you seriously going to start a prayer group?” Harry asked dubiously, wondering if last night’s festivities had dampened his boyfriend’s resolve. Draco cocked his head, thinking, as they walked up the stairs and straight to the bathroom. Harry turned on the water in the shower to heat up and began to undress.

“After careful consideration, I don’t think so,” the blonde said finally, smirking at the shock that came across Harry’s face. He licked his lips as more of Harry’s skin was revealed, and then he peeled his own clothes off, preening a little at Harry’s adoring and hungry gaze.

“What changed your mind?” Harry’s voice had turned husky at the sight of Draco’s pale, naked form. The blonde winked mischievously and stepped into the shower, Harry following closely. They both heaved mutual sighs as the water sluiced over them, washing away last night’s leftovers. Draco turned to Harry and kissed him full on the mouth, and the Gryffindor pressed back eagerly. Harry’s cock sprang to attention, and Draco sank to his knees, admiring his boyfriend’s pride as he took the heavy and tanned wand of flesh in his pale, soft hand and slowly began to stroke.

“Well, you see, this is the way I pray,” Draco purred. “And I realized that I might have to share if I started a group, and I’m just not willing to do that.” With a haughty smile up at Harry, Draco leaned forward and enveloped Harry’s cock in his hot mouth, causing Harry to gasp and grab at the shower wall for support. Mark would not have to worry; Draco would take very good care of Harry, indeed.

The falling water began to rain on Draco as Harry shifted, and he closed his eyes, cheeks hollowed out as he sucked Harry’s cock, alternating between licking the head and deep-throating it. Harry’s eyes were glued to his worshipper, although they closed every now and again involuntarily as Draco did something that felt extra good. He felt the familiar touch of Draco’s fingers on his balls, caressing and tugging ever so gently, and he moaned his approval.

Draco splayed his fingers up Harry’s thigh as he began to bob his head on Harry’s crotch, marveling at the contrast between his own ivory coloring and the wet darkness of Harry’s olive skin. There was no friction as he ran his fingers up and over the sexy crease in Harry’s hips, tracing a line up to his navel and dragging his fingernails back down. Harry didn’t last long, and he barely managed to gasp out a warning as his back arched, one hand on Draco’s head to steady himself, and he came in his lover’s mouth. Draco lapped up every drop and swallowed expertly, continuing to lave at Harry’s erection to make sure it didn’t flag. He knew exactly where Harry was oversensitive, though, and made sure to keep just enough pressure that he stayed excited without over stimulating and hurting him. Draco pulled away from Harry’s cock and stood, pressing their fronts together and lifting his face toward Harry’s.

Draco’s cock was rigid, and he rubbed his hips along Harry’s half-mast, knowing that would help bring him back to fullness again. Harry’s head came down to capture Draco’s lips in a searing kiss that thanked him and at the same time, promised to return the favor. Draco felt Harry’s fingertips sliding lightly up his back to his neck, where they framed his pale face as Harry kissed him again and again. He wrapped one arm around Draco’s waist, kneading his ass as he probed Draco’s entrance with the other hand. He let his fingers glide down Draco’s entire crack before bringing them back up to press into the perfect little rosebud that Harry knew was hungry and just waiting to be filled by him.

The involuntary shudder and the way Draco’s eyes rolled back in his head when Harry pushed two fingers into him told Harry that Draco was more than ready, even though Harry hadn’t prepared him fully. He kissed Draco senseless while he finger-fucked the boy’s perfect ass until Draco pulled away for oxygen and begging for Harry to penetrate him.

Harry’s prick reinflated, and he was as horny as ever, raring to go. He turned Draco around, and Draco spread his legs as wide as the shower would let him, folding his hands together and bracing himself with his elbows against the wall. His hands looked like he was ready to pray, and Draco dropped his forehead to his thumbs as he felt Harry pull his cheeks apart and rub the glistening helmet of his rampant member against his entrance.

“I am your god,” Harry growled as he impaled Draco with one smooth push. Draco’s back arched, and his head came back as he let out a hiss of agreement before he tilted his head to one side, letting his neck and shoulder come in contact with the wall instead. Harry began to thrust slowly, alternating between short, deep thrusts and long, languorous ones where he pulled out to the tip and plunged back into Draco’s passage.

“That’s blasphemous,” Draco whispered back, his eyes rolling in pleasure. His hair was grabbed, and he felt Harry’s chest against his back. Harry’s voice was low and seductive in his ear.

“Not if you pray to me,” he murmured. “You are mine, Draco Malfoy, and you answer to me alone.” Draco nodded, concentrating on not coming when the head of Harry’s cock touched the sweet spot inside of him. Harry thrust harder, and his teeth scraped alongside Draco’s neck, causing him to gasp. “You want to be religious? You want to pray? You were on your knees last night, but I definitely prefer you on your knees today.”

“I pray to you,” Draco gasped back. “This is my altar.”

“Damn straight,” Harry growled, biting at Draco’s collarbone one last time before releasing his hair and grabbing his hips. His pace quickened as he drove himself and his lover closer to the edge. “You want to be filled with the Holy Spirit? I’ll give you the fucking Holy Spirit.”

“God, yes, fill me! Fuck, yeah, just like that! Oh, god, Harry! Oh, Jesus!”

“Jesus got nailed for you,” Harry said harshly, pulling out of Draco and pausing. “Are you ready to get nailed for him?” Draco’s breath caught in his throat at the sheer, utter, and inherent wrongness of Harry’s statement, and he was about to reply when Harry pounded into him HARD. Draco choked, and his eyes crossed as Harry battered the sensitive band of nerves inside him.

“Fuck yes, nail me,” Draco gasped. “Oh, god, Harry, I can’t hold back! I’m gonna cum!”

“Yes, Draco, fuckin’ cum for me. I love you,” Harry responded, feeling the tightness of Draco’s arse flood with wetness as Harry released his own load inside of him. Draco squealed Harry’s name as his cock pulsed and bobbed, shooting jet after jet at the shower wall, where it was washed away. Draco’s orgasm was powerful, and as soon as his muscles unclenched, he went boneless and nearly fell. Harry’s arms encircled his waist automatically, and Draco leaned on his lover’s strength, panting heavily. Harry nuzzled Draco’s ear and neck, planting soft kisses every once in a while. He pulled the shower curtain back, not caring that the water was still on, and guided Draco out of the tub. Harry turned the water off and grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapping his sated boyfriend in it and leading him to the bed. They curled up and fell asleep in each other’s arms for their afternoon nap.

They woke leisurely, getting up and dressed in comfortable clothes. Harry headed for his desk again while Draco walked to the nearby Italian restaurant to get dinner. Harry sat and pulled out his notes, but he couldn’t concentrate. He was still floating from earlier, although a small shadow crossed his mind at what Draco would focus on next, now that the religious bug was (hopefully) out of his system. Harry didn’t have to wait long, because he heard Draco’s excited exclamation as soon as his boyfriend opened the door.

“Okay, Harry, THIS one is different! You’re gonna LOVE it!”

“Draco, you just went to get dinner. How could you have found something else that quickly?” Harry succeeded in keeping the exasperation out of his voice this time, his tone sounding friendly and interested instead. He met Draco in the kitchen, shaking his head hopelessly at the familiar sparkle in Draco’s merry silver eyes, though his hair was wetter than last time.

“It was on the bulletin board at the restaurant,” Draco explained. “It looks simply divine. Here, have a look.” He busied himself with getting plates and forks out of the cabinets and dividing the food onto both plates, bracing himself for Harry’s strangled response. He smirked to himself when it came, right on cue, and right as expected.

“Ballroom dancing?!”

**********

Author's note--Hey, I'm back! Believe it or not, I AM working on the endings to the unfinished fics I have published here...the muses are slow-going these days, it seems like. I miss you guys, and I think about you a lot, even if I can't log on here as much as I used to.

Notes about this oneshot:

Gamma Alpha Upsilon "Upsilon" in Greek is the letter "Y". Guess what the acronym for this fake fraternity spells. (haha get it? Yes, my knack for horrible puns and innuendos has not dimmed in the SLIGHTEST!)

This is the way I pray This is a line from the song "Prayer" by Disturbed. The song itself is not exactly included in this fic, but it is related, I think. I particularly like the sexual connotation I gave it, though, that is not in the song.

I decided that the "background" for this fic would more or less ignore DH, and it would be the "Draco-goes-to-Grimmauld-and-he-and-Harry-fall-in-love" backstory, which relates really well to the Disturbed song about having something to believe in, even when everything around you is falling down and caving in.

But the song in itself doesn't translate to their current "reality": a fraternity at an American college. However, when I read the prompt quote, that was the scene that jumped into my mind, so that's how I went from "Grimmauld" to "here".

I hope you enjoyed! I stayed up all night writing it!