Truth of the Willows

The Truth of the Willows

“Are they serious about this? Do they really think this is going to cause that kind of uproar?” Harry asked, incredulously staring as the staff table at the far end of the Great Hall was removed and a stage erected in its place. Various teachers were casting powerful shielding charms around the perimeter. “I mean, what do they really need the shielding charms for? It’s just a talent show.”

Hermione sucked her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed completely exasperated with Harry’s questions, though it might have been because she had a hand in organizing the whole event.

“Harry, please,” she tutted. “You know full-well what can happen at a Muggle performance when things go bad. I mean, they used to throw rotting fruit and vegetables at the performers in the middle ages. Imagine the kinds of things that wizards could throw if they got annoyed or bored enough.”

Harry rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, leaning over the table. He felt as though he had had a perpetual headache since the end of the war. His temples throbbed dully.

“Yes, but Hermione,” he continued, amazed that he needed to point this out to her. “We are no longer in the middle ages. In fact, those are long gone. We are a civilized people.” She let out a dry laugh.

“Yes, civilized people who go to war over purity of our breed,” she pointed out sharply. Harry frowned and gave up. Why had he even bothered trying?

“Do you really think that any of the acts are going to be that bad?” Ron chimed in, having finished his breakfast. He wasn’t particularly interested in the whole thing but made an effort to support Hermione now that they were officially ‘together’. Harry was getting quite annoyed by his inability to stand up to her, but was grateful for the marginally neutral comment he made.

“Well, to be honest,” she said, eyeing her pumpkin juice thoughtfully. “I am mostly worried about one in particular.” Harry looked up, readjusting his glasses.

Off in the doorway, he spotted a tall, blond Slytherin walking in. He was flanked by two, rather than three, of his usual followers. Goyle and Parkinson hung behind Malfoy as they walked in. The whole demeanour of the trio changed, even disregarding their loss of Crabbe. Malfoy’s face was smoother and calmer than it had ever been, in these past few months. He spoke little though almost solely in class. Parkinson trod lightly where she went and made no waves. Goyle was lucky to be back at all. Malfoy had those who had spoken on his behalf. Goyle had none.

Malfoy turned briefly, glancing in Harry’s direction, but as soon as he saw Harry looking back, he turned away and went to sit at the opposite end of the hall. Harry surveyed him and felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach.

The two of them had come face to face a few times in the months since the end of the war. Each time they came face to face was a struggle. Malfoy would made snide remarks or snappy witticisms at Harry’s expense but they lacked the effort he used to make. They lacked the fire behind Malfoy’s eyes. It reminded Harry unpleasantly of sixth year when Malfoy had first begun to alienate himself from the rest of the world. It disconcerted him. Malfoy never looked him quite in the eyes when he insulted him. It was as though, if he did, it would make real what was going on. If Malfoy looked at him then he would have to acknowledge the fact that he was insulting the man who saved his life.

Harry watched the blond staring at the table. He looked up to speak with the two people (perhaps one could call them friends) with him. He said something and they laughed. A smile drew itself on Malfoy’s face. Harry frowned.

He wanted to feel satisfied that Malfoy couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear the weight of the knowledge that Harry had saved him –twice. He wanted to gloat at the idea that he had taken Malfoy down a peg, brought him down to earth and punctured his ego. But Harry couldn’t. It was too… cruel.

Harry was surrounded by people who couldn’t meet his eyes, who couldn’t quite laugh with him as they used to. He was surrounded by a population of witches and wizards who were awestruck by his presence. They worshiped him for the sacrifice he had made for them. And yet they couldn’t bear the knowledge of it.

Harry had known that same feeling before, but there was always a handful of people who did not treat him the same way. Those people treated him like anyone else, in fact. Or rather, like less than anyone else. They treated him like dirt. At the time, he hated it. Now, he appreciated how much it helped him.

Severus Snape had been one of those people. Now he was gone.

Draco Malfoy had been another, but by every measure Harry had, he was gone as well. Malfoy was simply not the same. He was not normal Malfoy and Harry wanted nothing more than a return to normality.

He looked back at his friends and sighed.

“So, when does this thing start?” he asked Hermione. She had been prattling on about something to Ron and Harry had lost track of
it. She stopped, mid-sentence and frowned.

“I just said it begins just after lunch. It will take half the day.” Harry nodded apologetically and got to his feet.

“I’m going to go back to the Tower,” he said and walked off. As he left the Hall, he glanced Malfoy watching him from the corner of his eye. Harry stopped and turned slowly, trying to see him without really seeing him, but Malfoy turned back around and continued talking with the other two.

Harry sighed again.

+++++
Harry showed up in the Great Hall right on time for the start of the show. Despite the fact that his head was still pounding, he wanted to support Hermione. She had suggested the Talent Show as a way to increase the morale among the students. The whole year, so far, was designed differently than any other year at Hogwarts. The teachers were softer and kinder, in ways. Still stern and strict but they made an effort to be understanding. There were fewer students than ever before. There was an air of celebration around the country but a shadow hung over the school.

None of them there could quite forget what had transpired on Hogwarts grounds. None of them could quite understand the meaning of what Harry had done. Too many deaths had happened here. Too many bodies had been lain on the floor of that very hall. Too much blood.

So, Hermione headed a committee of students who had decided to put on small events every couple weeks to encourage students to enjoy themselves and celebrate. Harry thought it was a brilliant idea at the time.

Given the ear-splitting nature of the first performance, however, he began to reconsider. Luna Lovegood had decided that she would perform a traditional Mermish song… in Mermish. So she shrieked out a sound that forced all the students to their knees, hands over their ears lest they start bleeding.

Harry’s headache was by no means improving.

He removed his hands tentatively when she was done and turned to Hermione. She was flushed pink.

“I didn’t quite realize she meant she would sing in Mermish,” Hermione admitted, seeing the faces of her two friends. Ron had lost the ability to speak, entirely, his mouth gaping like a fish.

“Were there any other ‘traditional’ songs or performances on the list?” Harry asked quickly, a sharp edge to his voice. “Something about a banshee, perhaps? Or a Mandrake?”

Hermione frowned and pursed her lips.

“No, honestly, Harry,” she shot at him. “This is Luna we’re talking about. Why are you surprised?”

Harry just glared at her as the crowd began to recover and many students seemed to be discussing the merits of leaving entirely. Ron was picking some fluff out of his pockets and trying to roll it all together.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, watching him incredulously. Ron looked unabashed.

“I’m trying to see if I’ve got enough fluff to plug my ears,” Ron answered very seriously. “In case there’s another one like Luna.” He tugged at his pockets and swore. “I wish mum weren’t so meticulous on my clothes. “ He looked around himself for something else
that might work. Then his eyes landed on Harry. “Do you–”

“No,” Harry responded immediately. “Absolutely not, ask someone else. If anyone is going to use my pocket fluff, it will be me.” Ron looked disappointed but immediately turned to a student on his right to ask them.

Harry laughed to himself as Ron got slapped in the face by a Ravenclaw girl who had misunderstood the question. He turned a bright shade of magenta before turning back to Harry.

“Decided I don’t really need my ears,” he proclaimed, staring resolutely at the stage. Hermione had a very smug look on her face.
Harry waited in the audience, listening and watching the various performances and each was only marginally better than the first. There was a couple Ravenclaw girls who had decided do a dramatic reading (with miming) of the founding of Hogwarts. A couple of Hufflepuff students attempted some acrobatics on their broomsticks, which might have gone horribly wrong had Hermione not also equipped the stage with a massive cushioning charm.

The audience, however unimpressed with the so-called ‘talents’ of their peers, seemed to be enjoying the show. At least, they seemed to take it to be a massive comedic act. Harry looked over and noticed Malfoy laughing loudly as one of the Hufflepuffs greatly misjudged an attempted Wronski Feint and crashed directly into the stage only to bounce back into the air in a summersault that was clearly unintentional.

Harry rolled his eyes. Figured that the things that would make Malfoy happiest were the things that humiliated others. In order to prevent himself from being a hypocrite, Harry had to work hard to stifle a laugh as one Hufflepuff attempted to jump from the arms of his friend onto his broom and landed rather awkwardly on it. The whole crowd erupted in a unanimous “ohhhh” and all the boys in the audience inhaled sharply.

Eventually, the Hufflepuff was removed and brought to the Hospital wing and the next act was introduced. Harry was surprised to
see Seamus Finnigan take the stage next to Dean Thomas, Ernie MacMillan and Blaise Zabini. The rest of the crowd seemed somewhat shocked as well, given that there was a hush that ran throughout the hall.

“What are they doing?” Harry asked Hermione. She shrugged and pointed to the stage. Seamus walked up to the front of the stage and pointed his wand to his own throat. He then picked up a guitar that was lying to the side. Dean sat himself behind a drum set that Harry had not noticed before. MacMillan stood behind what looked like a keyboard and Blaise picked up a bass guitar. Harry’s jaw dropped.

They had formed… a band??

“Hey there, Hogwarts!” Seamus cried out, a mischievous smirk on his face. “How are you all doing today?” The crowd did not seem to respond well but Seamus took no offence. “We’re The Whomping Willows and we’re going to play a song for you today that we thought would definitely lighten up the mood around here!”

Harry stood, dumbstruck at the idea that Seamus would be singing, let alone playing an instrument with the rest of the unlikely band members, Harry quickly began to search his pockets for fluff but found none. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath as Seamus plucked at the first chord.

It didn’t make his head explode. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax. Maybe they were good.

“This song goes out to all the ladies,” he breathed, his voice still echoing throughout the hall. They started to play and Harry smiled a bit. The song was relatively smooth. He nodded his head, mildly impressed. Then Seamus began to sing.

“Draco Malfoy, what’s your problem?
Looking kind of mopey and forlorn, this morning…”

Harry’s face split into a grin. This was going to be a song about Malfoy? Making fun of Malfoy? Ok. He could definitely listen to that. He turned to see Malfoy’s expression and was pleased. The blonde’s jaw had dropped and he was staring at the stage, in shock.

“Harry Potter, what’s your deal?
Are you havin’ trouble with the feelings that you feel?”

It was Harry’s turn to be shocked. He whipped around to Seamus and blinked. What were they on about? He wasn’t offended by the words, really. They didn’t mean anything. Was Seamus just going to ask random questions like this about every student?
The rest of the crowd seemed to be thinking the same thing and they weren’t quite sure what to make of the song. Malfoy, on the other hand, allowed the smirk to briefly return to his face. But just briefly.

“Draco Malfoy, what’s your issue?
Do you need a hug, or maybe a tissue?
Harry Potter, give us a sign.
Can’t commit to Ginny so what do you have in mind?”

Harry felt the heat rise into his face. He was sure he was a deep red colour by now. He was staring at Seamus in complete and mute shock. This song was only going to be about him and Malfoy. And it did not seem to be going anywhere pleasant.
Harry chanced a glance at Malfoy. Though he was being jeered at as well, he did have the ghost of a smirk on his face. Harry turned to Ron and then spotted Ginny in the crowd. She did not seem all that bothered by the song but she wasn’t laughing about it either.

“What is this?!” Harry hissed angrily at Hermione. She shrugged in confusion.

“I don’t know, Harry,” she replied. “They just said they were going to perform.” He looked back at Seamus as he continued more quietly now.

“Gimme three guesses…
Is it Professor McGonagall?”

Harry felt his jaw drop and his brows knit in horror. This was not happening. He was not being taunted about a possible romantic relationship, in front of the entire school, with the Headmistress.

“I’m going to kill Seamus,” Harry said, shaking.

“Is it Lavender Brown?”

Lavender looked over at him suddenly with interest. She looked completely affronted, however, when she saw the look of disgust on his face. Harry shook his head, trying to shake off the urge to attack Seamus.

“No, it’s Draco and Harry
Sitting in a tree,
S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G.”

Harry felt the colour leave his face. It was what now? He turned to look at Malfoy and saw the very same expression on his face. The blonde’s eyebrows slowly knitted together and he made a move forward but Goyle and Pansy held him back. Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah it’s Draco and Harry,
Sitting in a tree,
F-A-L-L-I-N-G in love. In love.”

At this point, the entire crowd erupted in a fit of laughter. They were cheering and jumping around as the song picked up speed and the melody improved. Harry couldn’t move.

“Oh, honestly, Harry,” Hermione’s voice came through the roar. “It’s just a bit of fun to make people laugh.”

Harry wheeled on her and glared. She shrugged and swayed with the crowd. He could not believe this. When he finally looked at Ron, he was relieved to see a similar expression of horror.

“That’s just…ugh,” Ron said. “You and…and…”

“I know!” Harry exclaimed.

“Professor McGonagall???” Ron finished, Harry shook his head in shock.

“WHAT?” He grabbed Ron by the collar. “THAT’S what stuck out to you??”

But Ron did not get a chance to respond as the song continued.

“Draco Malfoy, level with me,
Used to be so enthralled with Pansy.”

At this, Malfoy jerked backwards, a look of revulsion on his face before he promptly decided to wrap his arm around Parkinson’s shoulder. She paused for a moment and then looked up at him, rolling her eyes.

“Harry Potter, don’t be shy,
Got no luck with women so perhaps you need a guy!”

Harry fought hard not to pull out his wand. His face was burning now and he was plotting how best to murder Seamus and get away with it. Perhaps he should murder all four of them. Surely they were all involved.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,
No there’s nothing wrong with it…”

Seamus continued but Harry could no longer listen. He threw his arms up and pushed his way to the back of the crowd just as Seamus was encouraging them all to join in the chorus. He reached the back of the hall and realized that Malfoy had decided to try the same thing.

They stopped dead in front of each other, staring wide-eyed at one another.

“Hey, look! Our little lovebirds found each other!” Seamus’ voice rang out and everyone in the audience turned to see them. Harry flushed darker red (if possible) and finally made a noise of angry desperation before pushing past the blonde and walking out.
He went out onto the grounds and sat himself down by a tree. He was breathing hard and fast. His whole body was tense and shake from his anger.

How dare they use his love life as a way to insult him? His friends no less! How dare they suggest, even in joking, that he wasn’t with Ginny because he was more interested in Malfoy?!

He was all for getting morale up but this was just ridiculous! This was going too far!

He could never prefer Malfoy to Ginny. He didn’t like men, anyway! He was attracted to girls, as was clear with his crush on Cho and his interest in Ginny. He had never felt any interest for Mal—

Ok… so perhaps that wasn’t quite true. Perhaps he had been interested in Malfoy in the past but only to know what he was up to! Only to find out what his plans were so that Harry could stop him! It was to stop Voldemort! He was never interested in Malfoy without reason.

Harry tried to calm his breathing and thought hard. Had he ever made it seem as though he was interested in Malfoy? Romantically? Or… any other way?

He shook his head as though answering himself. No. Certainly not. He had only ever loathed the Slytherin. And sure, now he didn’t hate the git, but he certainly did not –ugh -love him either.

Harry got to his feet. He needed to find Malfoy. He needed to… to prove somehow that this was just a stupid joke and that it was untrue. Yes. A blatant lie.

He walked back into the Great Hall to find that the show was over and Hermione was sitting at a table, flipping through papers. Harry marched over to her and stood in front of her. She looked up at him and smiled.

“How are you, Harry?” she asked, rather foolishly to Harry’s mind.

“How do you bloody think I am?” he snapped, then got a hold of himself. He took a deep breath. She pursed her lips at him.

“Honestly, Harry, you can’t really be seriously angry,” she went on. He gaped at her. “It was a joke. Everyone enjoyed it. You need to learn to laugh at yourself.”

“I will, Hermione,” he replied evenly. “I will learn once I have found Malfoy and proven to this school that I am not, in any way, in love with him. Now where is he??”

She gave him a strange look.

“Harry, you aren’t going to hurt him, are you?” she asked, strangely concerned.

“Only if I have to,” he responded before thinking. He glanced around.

“No, Harry don’t,” she said softly. “Just leave it alone. You’re not going after Seamus and them, anyway. Why go after Malfoy?”

“I will be paying Seamus a visit once Malfoy is taken care of,” Harry muttered. “Now where is Malfoy?”

“Tsk, please,” she snapped. “You aren’t going to hurt Seamus for poking fun at you. And you’ve asked me twice, already, but what makes you think I would know?”

Harry frowned.

“I am not in love with Draco Malfoy,” he repeated severely. She leaned in with a small smile.

“You’ve said that twice now,” she replied. “Unprompted, might I add.” Harry glared at her.

“Just tell me where he is. I know you know, somehow,” he urged. “I need to go insult him or something. Hex him… I don’t know, just prove somehow that I don’t care about him.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said sadly. “Don’t you think he might be hurting right now?”

Harry stopped dead, his anger gone and replaced with confusion.

“What?”

“I mean, after the song and watching you express such disgust at the matter,” she explained quietly. “Don’t you think he’s had enough humiliation for one day?”

“Hermione, what are you on about?” Harry was getting annoyed at something entirely different.

“I see the way he looks at you, Harry,” she explained even more quietly. “The way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see him, when he thinks no one can see him. He can’t look you in the eyes Harry. He’s too embarrassed about how he feels.” Harry’s face contorted in confusion and disbelief. “He longs for you, Harry. Don’t hurt him.”

Harry nearly burst out laughing. It was too ridiculous to believe.

“You’re lying,” he responded with a dry laugh. “No bloody way.”

Hermione got very serious.

“Why would I lie to you about this?” she asked, somewhat angry at the assumption. “Why would I lie on his behalf?” Harry opened his mouth to say something but then found no words.

Hermione wouldn’t lie to him. She was also probably not wrong. Generally, when Hermione noticed people’s feelings, they were pretty accurate. Generally. Harry shook his head.

“So what am I supposed to do?” he shot. “It’s not my problem.”

“Go talk to him, Harry,” she cooed. “Tell him that the song didn’t really bother you, that you were just shocked. Or something.” She pushed him off. “Just don’t hurt him. Whatever Malfoy was before, he’s been through enough.”

Harry frowned, all his anger gone now.

“But where is he?” He asked again. She shrugged.

“I heard his friends mention something about the seventh floor where he likes to be alone,” she suggested. “Probably the Room of Requirement. Try looking for him there.”

Harry surveyed her suspiciously before running off to the seventh floor.

He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, no idea what he was going to say to a pining Malfoy, but he went. If Hermione was indeed right, he felt bad. Perhaps that was why Malfoy hadn’t been able to muster up the energy to taunt him properly. Perhaps… who knows.

Harry swallowed hard and thought about the song. He realized that Seamus was accurate on certain counts. Both of them had been quiet and distant since their return. Both of them were different.

Maybe, for Malfoy’s sake, Harry could give him a chance… to be friends. Maybe he could try to start things fresh. Surely it was worth a shot… He didn’t really want Malfoy to suffer any longer. He didn’t want anyone to suffer.

+++++
“GRANGER!” Draco shouted half-way across the hall. He walked briskly towards the bushy-haired Gryffindor, sitting behind a table. She looked up, unfazed by the greeting.

“Hello, Malfoy,” she responded simply. “Always a pleasure to hear from you.”

Draco smacked his hands down on the table and leaned over it, looming over her. His face was set and his jaw was tight. She did not back away.

“Where is Potter?” he asked silkily with all the sweetness of a rock.

“Do you really think it’s best to be seen with him right now?” she asked, not unfairly. Draco glared.

“Yes, Granger,” he answered. “I need to find Potter so that I can adequately hex him into oblivion and ensure that no one ever questions my true feelings for him again. Now, where is he?” She did not look amused.

“Oh yes, that’s real incentive for me to tell you,” she answered dryly. He huffed. She waved him away and looked back at the papers, presumably the tally of who won the so-called ‘talent’ competition. “He was looking for you, actually.”

Draco sneered.

“Well if he has any sense he won’t find me,” he replied sharply. “If he wants to keep his –”

“Really?” she asked sarcastically. “What does it matter, anyway? What will hexing him prove? That you have no shame? Attacking the man who saved your life?”

Draco pulled back abruptly and straightened.

“I may owe him my life,” Draco hissed. “But that does not mean he has claim to anything else of mine.” He adjusted his robes. “I am simply going to have a few choice words with him to drive the point home that I do not give a damn about him.”

“Are you sure?” she asked suddenly. He was taken aback.

“What?”

“Are you sure you don’t give a damn about him?” she said in an undertone that was inexplicably threatening. “Sure that you want him to think that?” Draco felt horribly exposed, suddenly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he shot back, feeling uncomfortable. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Perhaps because youdo care about him,” she responded. He was thankful she was being quiet so no one else could hear.

“Nonesense!” Draco exclaimed after sputtering a few times. She gave him an incredulous look.

“Please, Malfoy,” she sighed. “I’ve see you looking at him. I’ve seen the longing in your eyes.”

“You’re mad,” he spat. Draco swallowed hard.

“I’ve see how you can’t look him in the face anymore,” Draco opened his mouth to interrupt but she pressed on. “I see you watching him. I see how you shiver when he passes by.” He was about to pull out his wand and hex her when she added “I think he feels the same.”

Draco felt as though he had been hit in the head with a bludger. What had Granger just said?

“He what?” Draco stammered eventually. She nodded.

“He feels the same way,” she told him. Draco knew he hadn’t reacted appropriately to the news. He knew he should have laughed and then planned to spread the news to the world. He knew he should have done something, at least, other than stand there with disbelief in his eyes.

“You’re lying,” he breathed. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting quite sick of people accusing me of that,” she shot back. Before he had time to ask who had accused her of lying before
him, she went on. “Do you really think I would lie to you about Harry? Do you think I would tell you something that personal if it were made up? Do you think I would want to help you humiliate him in any way? Be reasonable.”

Draco stood, speechless for a few moments.

“Where is he?” he asked once more, this time in barely more than a whisper. His face was different now. She smiled very slightly.

“He thought you might be around the Room of Requirement,” she replied softly. Draco gave her a blank look. “The Room of Hidden Things.”

Draco shuddered involuntarily for a moment before nodding to her and rushing off.

Granger certainly had a peculiarly victorious look on her face as he left.

+++++
Draco stopped just before turning to the stretch of hallway that housed the Room of Hidden Things. He stopped, pulled his robes straight and ran his fingers through his hair. His heart was beating quickly but he wasn’t sure why.

He was nervous. Nervous about seeing Potter? Nervous about talking to him? About what had happened?

Draco reminded himself that nothing had really happened other than four walking dead men having squawked out a song attempting to humiliate both he and Potter using the oldest line in the book.

He pulled out his new wand, just in case, and turned the corner. He caught a glimpse of Potter’s back before he, too, spun around at the noise. Potter was standing in front of the tapestry. His wand was drawn but when he realized who it was that had found him, he stiffened.

Draco took a tentative step towards him.

“Potter,” he said curtly. He held his head slightly to the side, trying to size up the situation. Potter stood broad and wide, looking much like he was about to throw himself headlong into Draco.

Perhaps he does… NO. Stupid. That’s just how Potter looks.

“Malfoy,” he responded, nodding slightly. “I heard you were looking for me.” Draco stopped just short of the tapestry to give them both ample room… to breathe.

“I heard you were looking for me,” Draco drawled, cocking his head to the side. He held his wand steady, pointed at the ground. Potter’s eyes flickered.

“So we were looking for each other all this time,” he said. Then, as though realizing the double meaning of his words, Potter flushed an exquisite pink. Draco smirked ever so slightly.

“Right,” Draco added suddenly. His eyes were trained on Potter’s expression, hoping to pierce through him entirely and see his soul. He stared back at Draco and took a deep breath. His eyes travelled down to Draco’s wand.

“New wand?” he asked with the hint of a sneer. “Or did you steal mummy’s again?”

Draco stiffened and momentarily stopped breathing. His face shifted visibly. Potter watched it happen and, when he couldn’t take the effect of his words any longer, he looked to the side. Just for a moment.

“Mine,” he responded. His answer was short and cold. Potter nodded slightly.

“Working for you?” he asked, apparently attempting to make conversation through the very awkward scenario. Draco tried nodding but then shook his head.

“Not like my other one,” he answered, despite himself. He was prepared to be ridiculed, or perhaps hexed because of his slight disadvantage. But Potter sighed softly and nodded.

“I know,” Potter murmured. It was a strangely intimate thing to say, even if it was about magical instruments. Potter had never agreed with Draco about anything before. He shivered involuntarily and came back to himself.

“Is this why you were looking for me, Potter?” Draco asked impatiently. There was a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “To discuss my wand?”

Potter inhaled sharply and his eyes flashed abruptly to Draco’s face. He swallowed hard and licked his lips. Draco’s eyes followed Potter’s tongue involuntarily.

“No,” he answered. He ran a hand through his messy mop. “I just… wanted to tell you that I don’t care… about the song.” He seemed unsure of himself, for the first time Draco had ever witnessed. He watched Draco’s expression carefully. “I don’t care about
what they were saying. It… “ he hesitated as though weighing the words. “It doesn’t disgust me.”

Draco stared at him, wondering whether it would be more appropriate to laugh or hex him. Perhaps neither. He found himself wanting not to do anything at all that might give Potter the wrong impression.

But what impression was the wrong one?

“Well, I don’t care either,” Draco finally found himself saying. Potter gazed at him questioningly. “About the song. I don’t care about… them singing it. About…er…”

“About the whole school having heard it,” Potter finished, tentative and somewhat frightened. He took a step towards Draco. Draco felt his body get hot. He swallowed and knew that there were too many layers on his back and too few paces between himself and Potter.

“Right,” he answered. He licked his own lips and watched Potter’s eyes following his tongue. The knowledge of it both excited and frightened him. Were they really looking at each other this way?

No. Couldn’t be. This was Potter. Potter. He wasn’t attractive at all… in the usual way. His hair was unruly and thick. It was a mess. His green eyes were far too bright. His skin… was covered in scars. Certainly not sexy… at all. No. Certainly not. Couldn’t be.

Draco swallowed.

“You don’t care if the whole school thinks,” Potter started, taking another step towards Draco. Draco mimicked him. They were less than a foot apart. “If the whole school thinks we’re… involved.”

Draco smirked at the word and found himself more confident. Something else was driving his actions now. Something other than his rational thought.

“No, absolutely not,” he breathed. His eyes were fixed on Potter’s eyes. “Do you?”

“No, no,” Potter answered, trying to seem nonchalant. “I’ve never cared what they think.”

Draco nodded as he took another step and realized that his blond hair was now brushing over Potter’s nose, they were so close.

“Good,” the blonde responded, completely unable to think of a better answer. “So you don’t mind if they think we’re snogging?”
Potter tilted his head back slightly to look into Draco’s eyes. He shifted forward so they were practically against one another.
If this was a game of chicken, it was getting out of hand. And Draco certainly wasn’t going to lose.

“Nope,” Potter responded, his confidence coming back. They were playing chicken. Potter’s mouth was drawn in a dark smile. “You don’t mind if they think we’re shagging?”

Draco called his bluff and slipped his wand back into his pocket before running his palms over Potter’s hips, grabbing his waist with just enough pressure for him to know Draco was serious. Potter’s confidence faltered briefly.

“Nope, not at all,” Draco whispered. He leaned into Potter so their lips were almost touching. “You don’t mind if they think we’re falling in love?’

Potter’s wand was gone now too and his hand snaked up Draco’s back, his fingers splayed over Draco’s shoulder blades. He tugged Draco very slightly closer until their lips actually brushed, just for a moment.

Draco’s mouth was flaming where Potter’s lips had touched it.

“Not if you don’t,” Potter whispered. Then Draco closed the final distance between them and pressed his mouth to Potter’s, rough at first and then more gently. He angled his head into the kiss, first exploring Potter’s mouth with his own. They both tested the feeling, moving and kissing carefully, tentatively.

Then Draco let his tongue sweep over Potter’s mouth. Potter opened his lips and Draco’s tongue flicked inside, tasting his lips. Draco probed his tongue carefully at first and then moved further in. Potter countered eventually, running his own wet tongue over Draco’s. The experience was strange but enticing. Draco felt as though he had caught fire. He was intoxicated with Potter’s flavour.
Potter’s hands were firm as they pulled him in. His fingers traced upwards and laced into the tips of Draco’s hair. Draco slid his hands around Potter’s waist and downward to his butt, squeezing it. A high pitched moan escaped Potter’s mouth through the kiss. Draco smiled and pulled back.

Potter stared at him with wide eyes, his glasses slightly skewed. His lips were swollen and shiny. He was breathing heavily, his hands still pressed firmly against Draco’s back.

“Maybe we should use the room,” Draco suggested. Potter swallowed, leaning in for another kiss before nodding.

He pulled away and grabbed Draco’s wrist. He walked back and forth in front of the tapestry three times, no doubt thinking “give us a place to snog”. Draco, meanwhile was thinking something different.

A door appeared and Potter pushed through it, dragging Draco along with him. Once inside they stopped and gaped. Potter seemed somewhat alarmed.

The walls of the room were curtained in purple velvet and there was a massive four-poster bed in the centre. The hangings and linens were also deep purple and bore a finely embroidered Hogwarts crest. There were large pillows and a small table to the side of it with an assortment of bottles filled with liquids of various colours.

“I think the room wants us to do more than snog,” Potter murmured in an undertone. His fingers tightened around Draco’s wrist.

“Perhaps it’s not just the room,” Draco suggested, attempting, and failing, to appear innocent. Potter turned to him and stared.
Draco smirked and pulled him hard so that they pressed together. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish,” he replied confidently. He pressed his mouth to Draco’s once more and sucked on Draco’s tongue. Draco moaned softly as Potter drew his hands around to Draco’s neck and snapped the fastening of his robes. He slid his hands underneath them and pushed them off Draco’s shoulders.

Draco pushed Potter backwards, never breaking the embrace. His fingers worked open Potter’s robes to force them off him as well. Potter eventually got impatient and pulled back. He pulled out his wand and Draco panicked momentarily, thinking that Potter had lured him here to humiliate him. All Potter did, however, was banish their clothes. Both of them suddenly stood naked in front of each other, their throbbing erections painfully obvious now.

Draco let his eyes rove over Potter’s body, taking him in. Potter did the same.

“You are eager, aren’t you?” the blond purred. His smirk was both inviting and predatory. Potter closed the distance between them and pulled Draco backward to the bed.

“The Hogwarts robes have a ridiculous number of fastenings,” he growled. Draco’s hands travelled down Potter’s back to his butt again and pulled the cheeks apart as their hips ground together. The sudden friction between their hard cocks was deliciously overwhelming.

Potter pulled backward and Draco fell onto him, on top of the bed. Their hands were running all over each other, feeling every inch of skin they could of one another. For a while they did nothing else but tactilely explore one another. Potter’s skin was hot and smooth but his muscles were taught and rigid.

“You feel so silky,” Potter moaned, bucking his hips up into Draco’s. “You… god, you’re so soft.” Draco caught Potter’s lower lip in
his teeth. Potter moaned again and spread his legs unknowingly.

Draco’s hands were on Potter, everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of the feel, of the heat. He found Potter’s nipples and pinched them, eliciting a loud moan from the Gryffindor. Draco stifled Potter’s sound with his mouth, arching his back into the other man so that they rubbed against one another more forcefully.

Draco propped himself up with one arm on each side of Potter’s head. Their cocks were rubbing raw against one another. Draco grinned wolfishly.

“Do you want it, Potter?” he hissed. “Do you want met to fuck you?”

Potter was panting as he stared up at Draco. He looked to the side at Draco’s arms and his eyes fell on the still crisp Mark. Draco followed his eyes and briefly wanted to recoil, wanted to cover his arm and leave. But Potter looked back up at him with liquid lust in his eyes.

He lifted his head and pressed his tongue to the Mark, liking it from bottom to top. Draco watched with his mouth open and nearly came from the sight.

“Are you going to fuck me or not, Malfoy?” Potter taunted. His hands found their way down to Draco’s erection and wrapped around it. Draco moaned and then hit Potter’s hand away.

“I’m going to pound you so hard your screams will echo throughout the castle. And it’s my name you’ll be screaming,” Draco growled, latching onto Potter’s neck and biting down hard. Potter cried out and fisted Draco’s hair.

Draco reached out to the table and picked up a vial of liquid. He poured out some of it onto his fingers and then slipped his hand down between Potter’s legs. He fingered the area around Potter’s entrance for a moment before sliding one finger inside. Potter screamed, his fists tugging painfully at Draco’s hair.

Draco slid the finger in and out slowly and sucked lazily on Potter’s neck. Then he pushed another finger inside and Potter’s entire body tensed.

“Relax your muscles, Potter,” he told him. “It’ll hurt less.”

“Easy for you to say,” he groaned through gritted teeth as Draco scissored his fingers. Draco snickered.

“The alternative is much larger,” he hissed in Potter’s ear. The Gryffindor’s cock was hard as a rock beneath Draco. He hummed and added another finger.

“Fuck!” Potter screamed, nearly ripping out Draco’s hair.

“Stop pulling!” Draco cried as the pain intensified too much. Potter tried to relax his grasp but decided it was a better idea to grasp Draco’s arms instead. Soon there were deep scratches in Draco’s arms from Potter’s nails.

Draco pulled himself up and poured some of the liquid onto his twitching cock. He coated it and smirked at Potter.

“Ready?” Potter’s teeth were grinding together. He nodded and Draco pushed into him, slowly and steadily.

“Ahh!” Potter cried. He shook violently from the feeling and Draco nearly came. Potter was painfully tight.

“Fuck!” Draco yelled, unable to stop himself. His hands were digging into Potter’s hips. Both of them froze, completely unable to
move from the intense mixture of pain and pleasure. Draco was unwilling to give in so soon.

Draco slowly unclenched his hand from Potter’s waist and ran it smoothly upward, his fingertips brushing the skin. He needed to calm the other man down if they were ever going to continue. Potter moaned softly, his hands releasing Draco’s arms, leaving deep red welts where his fingers had been. Draco decided to punish Potter for marring his flesh later and concentrated on his task.

Potter’s hands found their way to Draco’s neck. He pressed his thumbs under Draco’s chin and force him to look up, into Potter’s eyes.

“You can move now,” Potter informed him huskily. His eyes were piercing and demanding. He relaxed his muscles as he could and then pulled Draco in for a kiss.

Draco slowly and carefully pulled out, just a bit, and then pushed back in. Even the small movements were enough to set Potter on fire. Draco smirked as he watched his effect on his rival –his former-rival? –and started to move more. He gyrated his hips into Potter, pushing in deeper with every thrust and steadily going faster.

Draco was rewarded with moans and screams enough to drive him onward.

“Yes, faster!” Potter screamed, his hands back to their initial position on Draco’s arms, digging into his skin. Draco complied, his body aching for it more than he was willing to admit.

He slammed into Potter deeper and harder with every push. Potter suddenly lifted his legs and pressed his heels into Draco’s lower back, forcing him in deeper still. Draco cried out with all of Potter clenching around him and threw his head back.

“God, yes!” Potter groaned. He screwed up his face and raked his nails over Draco’s back. “Mmm, gone come! Ahh, Draco!”
Potter screamed his name and his entire body tensed. Draco felt Potter’s orgasm tear through both of them and forced him to give in completely. He cried out intelligibly and shot out sticky liquid into Potter. He shook from the pull of his orgasm and then dropped unceremoniously onto the Gryffindor.

They lay there, just breathing, for what felt like an eternity. Neither seemed to want to disturb the moment by talking or touching each other. An awkwardness set in and Draco turned his head, burying his face in Potter’s neck. He didn’t want to pull out yet.
“You called out my name,” Potter said eventually, his voice small but bemused. Draco pushed himself up abruptly.
“I did not,” he responded promptly. He realized he was still inside Potter and decided to save himself form humiliation and pulled out. He rolled over and away from Potter.

“You did,” Potter insisted. “As you were –” He stopped and turned a delectable shade of red. Draco was reminded of a pomegranate.

“Well, you screamed out my name,” he shot back in retort, as though this was an adequate defense. Potter turned a darker red.
“Just as I said you would.” He smirked, deciding to take the upper hand by force. “And I bet the school did hear you.”

Potter glared at him for a moment before smirking to himself. Draco was confused before he realized that Potter was staring at the vast array of red marks he was sporting.

“Hmm, nice marks there, Malfoy,” he sneered. “I think that when people see those, they’re going to think you were on the receiving end, here.” Draco glared and rolled back onto Potter, pinning him to the bed. Potter simply continued to sneer.

“You’ve marred my body, Potter,” he snapped dangerously. “And you better believe that everyone is going to know that you gave me these marks while you begged for my cock.”

Potter grinned darkly and pulled Draco into a punishing kiss. He rolled them both over until Draco was flat on his back. Potter pulled away and cocked his eyebrows.

“What say we have another go?” he challenged. “See who comes out on top this time.” Draco smirked and grabbed Potter by the neck to pull him down.

“I’m glad Granger was right about you,” he hissed, nibbling on Potter’s lip. Potter blinked.

“Right about me?” he asked. “What did she say?”

“She said you were in love with me,” he answered, pressing his lips to Potter’s. But the Gryffindor pulled back, his brows knit in confusion.

“She told me you were in love with me!” Potter seemed taken aback. Draco stared for a moment, mildly surprised and then laughed.

“Granger may be many things,” Draco mused to himself. “But one think she is not is stupid. Apparently she is a liar though.”

“So you are in love with me,” Potter surmised. Draco ran his hand down Potter’s back and grabbed his butt.

“As if you aren’t in love with me,” he drawled back, watching as Potter gasped and pressed into his body.

“Shut up, Draco,” Potter shot with a smirk, pressing their lips together again.

+++++
“Oi, Hermione,” Ron’s voice called from the staircase to the boys’ dormitory. “Have you seen Harry?”

Hermione looked up from her book and smiled to herself.

“He said he was looking for Malfoy last I saw him,” she answered. Ron strode into the common room and sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders. He was wearing the old worn flannel pajama bottoms she loved so much. He leaned his head against hers.

“When was that?” Hermione looked back at her book.

“About four hours ago,” she replied, snickering to herself. Ron looked somewhat worried.

“I hope Harry’s alright,” Ron muttered to himself. “Trust Malfoy to fuck Harry up good even after Harry saved his life.”

Hermione nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Yes, well,” she said. “I’m sure Harry is doing his fair share of ‘fucking’.” Ron nodded appreciatively, completely oblivious.

“Can you believe bloody Smith actually came up to me and asked how long I’d know Harry was gay?” Ron demanded, astounded. “I shot a bat bogey hex at him, of course. Bloody wanker.”

“Of course,” Hermione answered, closing her book. She leaned in a kissed Ron on the cheek. “We should get to bed.”
----
A/N: Just a bit of fun. It didn't come out quite how I wanted it to but oh well. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.