Fic: The Young and the Restless (Part 2)
Jan. 18th, 2010 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nursedarryTitle: The Young and the Restless
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nursedarry
Artist:candygram_5000
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Set: Hogwarts Era
Rating: NC-17 (just)
Word Count: 17,241
Character/Pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy (mentions of Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley)
Warnings: Sexual content, strong language. Also, this fic is unfinished. Although it stops at a natural point, there’s absolutely no resolution aside from them both getting a leg-over. There will be an ending eventually, I promise.
Summary: 6th year, AU. Boredom has set in at Hogwarts. But Harry’s life becomes anything but boring when he ends up sitting next to Draco Malfoy in class. This is mostly just fluffy smut – basically a thinly-veiled excuse to get to the good bits.
Author's Notes: Obviously, this project would be nothing without the wonderful art bycandygram_5000. Huge thanks and a date with the Edmund Blackadder of your choice to my beta delphipsmith. And much love goes out toalovelycupoftea and cassie_black12 for being the best cheerleaders this side of Dallas.
Special note: Although the art is embedded in the fic, please make sure to click oncandygram_5000’s page and leave her some love. She deserves it!
Part 2
o0o0o0o0o0o
“I’ve left something in the library, hopefully I can still get in,” Harry called in answer to a question from Ron as he hurried out through the portrait. He’d hidden his invisibility cloak under his robe and had moved fast enough through the common room that he reckoned his friends hadn’t noticed anything.
When he got to the appointed rendezvous he found Malfoy pacing the corridor, looking wary. He was dressed in robe and school shoes.
“What have you got on under that?” Harry asked as he withdrew the cloak from his robe.
“Keen, are we Potter?” Malfoy drawled.
Harry was familiar enough with his tone to suspect that Malfoy was covering his nervousness with sarcasm. Choosing not to reply and perhaps unnerve Malfoy further, Harry just smiled.
“My pyjamas, if you must know,” Malfoy said, almost defiantly. He evidently wanted Harry to feel bad for thinking that he wouldn’t have been prepared as requested.
“Here, then.” Harry tossed the cloak to Malfoy, who reflexively reached out and caught the garment.
“Potter, where...? Do you know how valuable these things are?” Malfoy held the cloak between his hands and stared at it. Then he frowned. “Ah. Of course you have one of these. That’s how you got around Hogsmead in third year. I should have known Dumbledore would have made sure his precious hero wouldn’t get caught —”
“Shut it, Malfoy,” Harry said brusquely, turning and walking in the direction of the Tower. “It belonged to my father. I’m sure you know why he doesn’t need it anymore.”
Malfoy stayed silent for the remainder of the walk through the corridors. When they reached the foot of the stairs which would lead them irrevocably into Gryffindor territory, Malfoy pulled out his wand from his sleeve and donned the cloak. “Don’t dawdle, Potter,” he hissed at Harry’s back as they started up the stairs.
Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Now who’s keen, Malfoy?”
*
“Didn’t let you in then, eh?” Ron asked as Harry came through the portrait hole empty-handed. He and Neville were in the middle of a game of chess.
Harry held back, making sure he felt Malfoy’s presence behind him before walking forward into the common room. “Um...huh?”
“Madam Pince. Didn’t let you in,” Ron repeated.
“Oh,” Harry said quickly. “Yeah. Bad luck. I’ll have to go back to the library early to get that book before breakfast. Don’t let me forget,” he added, knowing Ron wouldn’t remember, as he usually woke later than any of them. A sharp poke in the spine spurred Harry on. “I’ll, er, see you guys in the morning.” He walked to the stairs. Once through the door and was sure they had the dorm to themselves, he turned and growled. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t you? That hurt.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response,” Malfoy’s disembodied voice said. “Can we get on with this?”
“Malfoy, this is for your benefit, too. If you’re going to be more of a prat than usual, feel free to leave the cloak with me and go back to Slytherin,” Harry said to the space in front of him he thought Malfoy was occupying.
“I don’t think so, Potter.” The voice came from by the window. Malfoy was obviously looking out at the view, something the Slytherin dorms, buried in the dungeons, entirely lacked.
Harry started toward the window but stopped at his bed and sat. “C’mere,” he said to the empty room. “Before someone else decides to come in.”
The mattress sagged beside him as Malfoy sat down. Harry pulled the curtains closed and then tugged the cloak away from the other boy. Malfoy’s hair was tousled and he sat very straight, looking more than a little apprehensive, if not of the surroundings, perhaps of the promise of the night’s activities.
“I’m not spending the night with you, Potter,” Malfoy spat. “I don’t like you, you know. I don’t want cuddling or pillow talk or any of that nonsense.”
“Sure, Malfoy,” Harry said, taking off his shoes and throwing them to the floor. “Whatever you say.” He wasn’t convinced.
“I’m serious,” Malfoy insisted. “This is purely sexual gratification. And maybe something to brag about should we both come through...” he left the thought unfinished, but Harry didn’t need to hear the rest to know what he was talking about.
Harry sighed, trying to tune out the usual Malfoy rubbish and concentrate on the next orgasm. As any sixteen-year-old should. He scooted up to the head of the bed. “Are you going to join me or are you just going to sit there?”
“I’m actually thinking about leaving. I don’t think this was a very good idea.”
“Feel free to leave,” Harry said, snatching the invisibility cloak and stuffing it behind his back between himself and the headboard just as Malfoy reached for it. Malfoy’s Seeker reflexes were good, but he succeeded only in lunging across Harry’s reclining body. Which was just where Harry wanted him. “That’s better,” Harry whispered into Malfoy’s hair and pulled him up into kissing range.
Several minutes later, Malfoy clearly was no longer thinking about leaving. Harry gently rolled him onto his back and his hands slowly worked their way down the front of Malfoy’s robe. “Are you cold, Malfoy, or is there another reason you’re not taking this thing off?” He scooted down the length of Malfoy’s body and reached for the bottom hem.
“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy replied, but Harry could tell he was smiling by the way he said it.
“No problem, Malfoy,” Harry said and disappeared under the other boy’s robes.
“What the hell—?” Malfoy propped himself up on his elbows, only to fall back again with a sigh of pleasure as Harry’s hands worked their way under his pyjamas. As Malfoy couldn’t see him, Harry decided to be as crafty as possible. He carefully avoided touching any part of Malfoy that he knew the other boy was desperate for him to touch. Instead, he tickled Malfoy’s ribs, pinched his nipples, stroked his thighs and then ran his tongue all over Malfoy’s abdomen.
By the time Malfoy finally hauled his robe over his head, Harry could see he was a quivering mass of excitement.
Harry carefully pulled Malfoy’s soft green pyjama bottoms down his hips and lowered his head, but before he could touch his tongue to Malfoy’s body the sound of voices stopped him. Both boys stilled, holding their breath as Harry heard his dorm mates’ laughter coming from the common room. He quickly groped for his wand which he’d abandoned on the bed — he found it underneath Malfoy — and muttered a hasty Silencio. Then he pounced on Malfoy’s cock before the other boy could change his mind about doing this in the dorm.
However strange fondling Malfoy’s penis had been the night before, this was tenfold as strange. Harry had never even thought about fellatio until last week, when the world of sexuality became much more real to him. And although he’d always had a healthy fantasy life, he could honestly say he’d never imagined himself on the giving end of a blowjob. Of course, afterwards, Malfoy might just feel like reciprocating...
Malfoy tasted like he smelled, musky and warm undercut with the sharp tang of soap, all of which assailed Harry’s senses as Harry wrapped his mouth around Malfoy’s cock. It was a mouthful, indeed, and Harry tried not to drool, inexpertly pulling and pushing his lips up and down Malfoy’s shaft. He made a conscious effort to keep his teeth covered (that much he’d figured out on his own), but what would Malfoy like? Or would he not care about technique and just be grateful to have Harry’s mouth anywhere near this part of his anatomy? Harry used his hand to secure the foreskin of Malfoy’s penis off the head and concentrated on that, swirling his tongue around, imagining how that would feel on himself.
Perhaps that wasn’t the most prudent thought; he was already very hard, and at this rate, he was in danger of coming even before Malfoy did.
“Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy moaned from above him, “faster.” Malfoy’s voice was accompanied by a hand which found its way into Harry’s hair and pushed Harry’s head firmly down. Harry had no trouble interpreting the gesture. He opened his mouth wider and attempted to get as much of Malfoy into his mouth as possible. A bad idea, it turned out, as it made him gag, but he quickly recovered and using his hand, his mouth, and liberal applications of his tongue, managed to cover most of Malfoy’s cock with some part of his body.
Now Harry remembered Malfoy’s comments about screwing him, which made him envision Malfoy inside him and then maybe himself inside Malfoy, and he lost all control. Harry felt himself coming in his clothes and clenched his fist around Malfoy’s cock as waves of pleasure washed through him. Absorbed with this, Harry missed the warning Malfoy was kindly giving him by pulling on his hair so forcefully it would have hurt, had Harry not been having a truly stupendous orgasm at the time.
Just as Harry was recovered enough to give his full attention back to Malfoy’s cock, the other boy came, flooding Harry’s mouth with warm semen. This shocked Harry; he’d known from personal experience that semen was warm, yet was still surprised when it began pulsing into his throat. He spluttered and gagged, trying not to cough all over Malfoy. Harry quickly wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his long-sleeved t-shirt and looked up.
“I did try to warn you,” Malfoy said almost crossly and he yanked his pyjamas up his legs before Harry could touch him again.
Yeah, I guess I’d feel disoriented too, if I had an orgasm whilst the person giving it to me sounded like he was choking to death, Harry thought, a little discomfited yet powerfully excited at the same time. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t notice until it was too late. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Wonderful,” said Malfoy without any emotion. He tried to sit up, but Harry held him down.
“How was it, anyway?” Harry asked, moving to lie atop Malfoy with his full body weight.
“What do you think, Potter?” Malfoy said sarcastically, trying to shove Harry off. “Get off, you’re heavy. And why are you all wet—? Ah. I guess I don’t need to ask you if you enjoyed it, then.” Harry flushed and lifted up, but Malfoy reached for his wand. “No, hold still a minute.” He cast a cleaning spell at Harry’s midsection.
“Thanks,” Harry said, embarrassed. He realized he’d now managed to come three times without Malfoy even laying a hand on him.
“It’s okay, Potty,” Malfoy teased. “Now, I mean it, get off of me.”
Harry rolled off and flopped down beside the other boy. He expected Malfoy to get up and demand the cloak so he could leave, but oddly, Malfoy remained where he was, breathing deeply and looking very sated.
Harry leaned in to kiss him, but Malfoy shifted away from him quickly. “Don’t even think about coming near me with those lips after having my cock in your mouth.”
Harry lay back again, frustrated. “Fine, Malfoy, whatever.”
Malfoy rolled toward Harry and raised himself up on an elbow. “Potter, you amaze me. Don’t you even know a simple teeth cleaning spell?” Malfoy said. “What do you use to clean up after...you know...” he made a gesture with his hand that Harry couldn’t possibly misunderstand.
“I just use my shirt or whatever’s handy, usually,” Harry yawned.
“If ever I needed reminding you’re a half-blood...” Malfoy sneered.
Harry jerked his head up angrily. “What’s that, Malfoy? I’m not wizard enough for you? I bet you didn’t think that five minutes ago!” He collapsed back on the bed, feeling cross.
“Merlin, Potter, will you shut up?” Malfoy hissed.
“I said a Silencing charm, for god’s sake,” Harry reminded him, and closed his eyes. He’d never felt so lethargic in his life.
“One can only hope it worked...” Malfoy said crossly. Harry felt him slump back onto the mattress. I guess he is staying, Harry thought, his mood improving slightly.
*
Harry opened tired eyes when he felt fingers poking him in the ribs. He didn’t bother to reach for his glasses, but he was instantly awake. Oh god, I’ve woken up with him! “What time is it?” he asked in a raspy voice. He cleared his throat.
Malfoy cast a Tempus charm. “Half-two,” he whispered.
“How long was I asleep?” Harry whispered back, a little embarrassed. He hoped he hadn’t been drooling.
“How should I know?” Malfoy said, covering a yawn with his hand. “I heard your noisy neighbours tromping in about midnight, I guess, but —”
“You fell asleep, too,” Harry teased, lifting his head up and smiling. Malfoy scowled. He seemed ill-at-ease and Harry wondered why he hadn’t left yet.
“So, I guess it doesn’t take much to get you off, does it, Potter?” Malfoy asked rather unkindly.
Harry surprised himself by keeping calm – after all, he could hardly deny it. “I guess not.” He couldn’t explain it; there was just something so arousing in seeing someone else as turned on as he was, knowing he had made it so. He considered a moment. “But you haven’t done much to me,” he continued. “Maybe you’re the same.”
“Is that a hint, Potty?” Malfoy said, eyes running over Harry’s still-clothed body.
“Er...” Harry blushed and felt his cock twitch. “I guess it is.” He reached to touch Malfoy’s hair, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist.
He pushed Harry’s arm back against the bed and crawled on top of him. Harry sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Holy shit, he thought. His over-sensitive prick started to fill with blood as Malfoy bent his head and began kissing his neck.
Harry’s breath came faster as Malfoy reached for the hem of his jumper and pushed it up to Harry’s collar. Malfoy began licking Harry’s chest, moving slowly from one side to the other and back again. Harry thought Malfoy’s mouth was much better at this than at speaking. Now’s probably not the best time to mention that, though, Harry considered through a warm haze of lust.
He could feel Malfoy’s erection pushing into his knee as the other boy slowly slid lower, his tongue moving down to Harry’s abdomen.
Harry’s muzzy mind was functioning enough to twig that perhaps Malfoy hadn’t yet left because he hadn’t done this to Harry. Or really touched him at all, for that matter. Was Malfoy feeling obliged to return the favour? Or did he, just maybe, actually want to?
As Malfoy’s fingers found their way to the buttons of Harry’s jeans, he decided he didn’t much care what Malfoy’s motivation was.
Amazing, thought Harry. Utterly fucking fantastic! He loved the feel of Malfoy’s smooth fingers around his shaft and pulling gently at his foreskin. It was wonderful not knowing what he would feel next...so different from – and miles better than – any wank he’d ever had.
“God...”
o0o0o0o0o0o
Ron thought the nightmares might have started again. Harry’s moaning had woken him up last night. Ron was worried for his friend’s well-being; Harry had said that in his dreams he could see through Voldemort's eyes and vice versa. If the nightmares were coming back, well, somebody ought to do something. Right?
*
“You okay, mate?” Ron asked at breakfast, spearing sausages like there was no tomorrow.
Harry looked tired, his brow furrowed slightly, but he managed a small smile. “Yeah. Why?” He reached for the marmalade.
Ron looked down into his tea. “Heard you moaning in your sleep. Thought you’d had a nightmare last night,” he mumbled. It wasn’t something they discussed often. Ron sounded embarrassed for him.
Holy shit, Harry thought, his mind racing. I know I cast a Silencing spell last night! He clearly remembered grabbing his wand from underneath Malfoy’s bare bum. Malfoy. Bare. God... Underneath his robe, Harry’s sixteen-year-old body responded to his memories.
What had he said? His heart sank. Oh, bloody hell, I said Silencio, not Muffliato. I made it impossible for us to hear anyone else in the room!. But there hadn’t been anyone else in the room at the time. And Malfoy had said he’d heard Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean come back in, so the Silencio hadn’t even worked! God, I’m such shit at simple spell-work! I can not tell Malfoy about this. Wait, didn’t he notice I used the wrong spell? Harry’s erection forcibly reminded him of what they’d been doing at the time. Perhaps not, thought Harry. He was lucky he could remember his own name as Malfoy had taken him in his mouth.
Harry's glanced quickly over Ron's shoulder at Malfoy, but the Slytherin was busy talking to Zabini and didn't notice Harry looking at him. "Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to scare you. Wasn't one of those dreams."
Harry realised a second too late that he'd set himself up. "Must have been one of those other kinds, then, huh?" Ron asked, grinning around a mouthful of sausage. Harry's face went very hot and he knew he must have turned red.
"No!" he said too quickly, which just seemed to reinforce Ron's opinion. "Oh god, Ron, just shut up," Harry moaned and covered his face with his hands.
Ron chuckled knowingly. When Harry felt it was safe to look up, he saw Malfoy peering at him from the Slytherin table, his eyes harsh, but his lips forming a small smirk.
Harry was going to have to remember to do a proper Silencing spell next time. And practice, so it would work.
Next time, he thought, now painfully hard.
o0o0o0o0o0o
The next time turned out to be the next night.
“It’s all coming off then. And you’re staying.” Harry clarified his conditions if Malfoy really was going to shag him.
“I am not staying. I refuse to wake up in the Gryffindor dorm,” Malfoy whined.
“You already have,” Harry reminded him.
“Not on purpose, and I wasn’t there all night. And besides, that was your fault; I was too tired after...” his voice trailing off, Malfoy turned his head away, seemingly at a loss to explain further.
“What the hell, Malfoy? How the fuck was it my fault?” Harry was used to this dynamic, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“I don’t know; your mouth just sucked the life out of me or something.”
Harry barked out a laugh. By this time, though, he had said the correct Silencing spell and double-checked that it was working. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
Malfoy said nothing.
“Get. Them. Off.”
Frowning, Malfoy complied, slowly removing every scrap of clothing, as Harry did the same.
*
Even if he wasn’t having nightmares, Ron could usually hear Harry’s soft snoring in the middle of the night. The complete absence of sound indicated that some type of Silencing spell had been placed around the bed, but the curtains were not quite closed, there was a small opening where the curtains came together. Maybe Harry was being considerate of his dorm-mates, Ron thought. After his nightmare earlier in the week, perhaps Harry was making sure they wouldn’t be disturbed again if he were to battle through another bad night, but acknowledging their concern by leaving the little gap so they could keep a wary eye on him.
Through this triangular opening in the curtains, Ron could see hands clutching the sheets — fingers of one hand entwined with those of the other. Weird. It looked as though Harry was shifting around and clenching his hands together whilst in the throes of a bad dream. The curtains twitched rhythmically.
Ron wondered if he should wake Harry. Sometimes it was dangerous to do so; Harry would lash out, sitting up sharply, wand aimed at Ron’s head, eyes wide and desperate, seeing some horrific event rather than the concerned face of a trusted friend.
Ron watched as Harry’s hands slowly unclenched. He hoped Harry was returning to normal sleep. The hands came apart, one slowly rubbing against the other.
It was then Ron noticed two things. In the moonlight Harry’s hands appeared to be two different shades, one considerably lighter than the other. Although that could be explained by the shadows cast against Harry’s skin by the curtains, the other thing Ron noticed couldn’t be dismissed as readily: both hands were right hands.
Someone was holding Harry’s hand. Someone had been grasping Harry’s hand only moments ago and was now gently caressing his fingers and wrist.
In short, Harry was not alone in his bed. Ron could barely believe it. When had Harry started seeing someone? And who? And why, for the love of Merlin, hadn’t Harry told him about it? Harry had told Hermione and him everything about Cho, and Harry had only kissed her! And now it looked as though he was doing a lot more than kissing someone. Obviously Harry hadn’t wanted to discuss this relationship with anyone or he’d have told Ron. Wouldn’t he? Ron was Harry’s best friend! They didn’t have any secrets.
Ron pondered this for a moment. That wasn’t entirely true; Ron hadn’t told Harry about all of the stuff he and Hermione had got up to. Though he and Hermione hadn’t done much more than a bit of kissing and minor groping, and Ron had considered himself lucky to get that far. And if he and Hermione had been doing something that involved a bed, Ron doubted very much that he would be very forthcoming to Harry with that information either.
In the semi-darkness, Ron noticed movement again. Both of the hands were withdrawn from view, and a rearrangement of bodies exposed what looked like part of someone’s naked back in the open space between the curtains. A hand drifted in and out of view, gently stroking the expanse of pale skin.
Ron was torn between coughing discreetly, which most likely wouldn’t be heard through the silencing spell, or rolling over and going to sleep. Of course there was a third alternative: adjusting his position so as to get a better view through the small opening in the curtains of Harry’s bed.
Ron decided on that option. He slowly pulled himself forward, trying to see further into the recesses under Harry’s canopy.
Ronald Weasley, what do you think you’re doing? the voices of his mother and Hermione said in his head at the same time.
Ron scrunched back down under the covers. He thought about what he’d seen, trying to glean some idea of who it could be that had won the heart (or at least the body) of the Boy Who Lived. Ron could still see pale skin. That was about three-quarters of the girls at Hogwarts, so no help there. He’d seen long agile-looking fingers. Ron contemplated the girls who were musicians or artists. Again, a good proportion of the female student body fell into this category; a lot of them were into that creative stuff. He’d also seen a glint of silver metal— a ring. Again, that didn’t really narrow the field. Many of the girls at school wore jewellery.
Ron was intrigued. He’d have to keep a careful eye out to see if he could recognise this girl from just her hands, as it was unlikely that he’d see any of the girls’ naked backs. He hadn’t even seen his own girl’s naked back.
Ron’s thoughts turned to recent conversations he’d had with Harry. Okay, Ron admitted to himself, there hadn’t been many. He hadn’t spent much time with Harry lately, since he and Hermione were still in the “honeymoon phase” of their relationship, but they did speak in class sometimes. And certainly at the Gryffindor table during meals…
Ron’s mouth fell open. What had he said to Harry just that morning at breakfast? That he had heard him moaning and was worried that his nightmares had returned. Bloody hell! That wasn’t Harry having a nightmare — that was Harry having it off with someone! Determined now to solve the puzzle, Ron finally drifted off to sleep.
o0o0o0o0o0o
The following afternoon Harry sat in the Gryffindor section of the Quidditch stands. There hadn’t been a match that day, and he had thought to go flying on his own. Walking down to the pitch, he’d changed his mind about flying; he was not so sore that he couldn’t sit on a broom —maybe — but he didn’t want the added distraction of the extra sensations.
He could have been alone in the dorm room, of course, but aside from the fact that his dorm-mates would no doubt find him and ask them to join him in whatever activities they had planned, his bed...his bed smelled of Malfoy. Up until that morning’s shower, Harry’s skin and his hair had smelled of Malfoy too.
Harry wanted a place he could think objectively. He couldn’t do that surrounded by people. So, here he sat, cold, but keen to be alone with his thoughts and not distracted by sensual memories.
So, I’ve finally had sex, he thought to himself. Kind of...well, I’m definitely not a virgin anymore, that much is true.
It’d been...weird...it’d been messy...it’d hurt. ..
It’d been brilliant.
Harry had had no chance to learn about proper sexual etiquette of any kind before it had become a reality for him. He knew that with a woman you needed Contraception spells, he even remembered Dean explaining some of them to him. But as it had taken Harry six years to learn Oculus Reparo, and he used that frequently, there was no way he’d remember anything to do with the bedroom.
Harry had heard from Seamus who had heard from Anthony who had heard from a seventh year Ravenclaw that there were Lubrication spells you could use with boys. Again, he’d been told it once, but had never had a reason to remember it.
Luckily, Malfoy remembered it. Almost. He’d said it incorrectly the first time and nothing had happened; he’d needed to change the stress on the word before his hand was covered in the warm gel-like substance.
Harry closed his eyes, remembering the feel of tentative slick fingers sliding uncomfortably then deliciously inside him. Malfoy had knelt behind him, Harry on his knees and resting his weight on his elbows. He had felt self-conscious and exposed, but also very aroused, had desperately wanted to touch himself, but also didn’t want anything to detract from the sensation of the other boy’s touch.
Malfoy had been nearly silent throughout the act. There had been a curt “Ready, Potter?” and then a moan of...what? Satisfaction? Harry thought. Whatever it was, Malfoy had made the most wonderful-sounding noise as he pushed himself inside, even as Harry felt like he was being torn apart. He had gasped and sworn, but Malfoy, who he was convinced would have spared little thought to the boy beneath him, placed a hand in the centre of Harry’s back. He may have just been steadying himself, but to Harry, it had been soothing, and he felt himself relax around Malfoy to the point where he no longer felt the pain as acutely.
There had been no warning before Malfoy moved, but part of Harry was desperate for him to do so. Instead, Harry had kept still, getting used to the unfamiliar sensations. Within moments, it went from painful to not-so-bad and finally to wow, as Malfoy moved within him. Harry had had little time to enjoy the new feelings before Malfoy made a surprised-sounding gasp and collapsed onto Harry’s back.
“Merlin,” the Slytherin sighed into Harry’s hair. Harry lowered himself down against the bed, his erection pressed painfully against the bedclothes. All he wanted to do was rub against the sheets until he came, but Malfoy’s weight made that impossible.
“Malfoy, are you okay?” Harry asked weakly.
“Gods, yes,” Malfoy replied quickly. Harry smiled, despite his discomfort. He knew Malfoy would never have been so impulsively honest had he had time to collect his thoughts and analyse the experience. Harry reached out awkwardly and stroked Malfoy’s hair as the Slytherin’s head drooped beside his on the pillow. Malfoy didn’t move away.
“Was that your first time?” Harry asked quietly, hand still stroking.
Malfoy said nothing. He didn’t need to.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Neville and Ginny were exchanging furtive kisses behind the suit of armour just outside the History of Magic classroom. They enjoyed taking a few minutes in the afternoon for a quick snog, a promise of things to come later in the evening.
Of course, it was a busy time in the castle and private places were hard to come by, and today was no exception. Neville heard a voice down the corridor, getting louder, which meant someone, or several someones, were headed in their direction. Ginny was never self-conscious about public displays of affection, but Neville was still rather shy — a hangover from his stern upbringing. He pulled Ginny further behind the armour and kept a wary eye out, hoping that whoever it was would pass them without stopping. No such luck. Footsteps came up to the door of the classroom opposite and paused there.
A whisper floated across the hall. “Hurry up, we’ve only got ten minutes till tea.” The voice sounded like Harry’s, but Neville didn’t want to distract Ginny from her interest in his neck by poking his head out to see. From across the hall came a squeaking sound like a door handle being turned, followed by a sharp bang and then a rough scraping noise. “Wait, the door – ow, my foot!” complained a different voice. It, too, was male, and one Neville couldn’t place straightaway. “Potter, my foot —”
Now Neville did recognise the voice from the way it had said Harry’s surname. He’d heard that voice say “Potter” since first year: Malfoy. Neville wondered if they were having a fight — he heard scuffling sounds and the squeak of hinges again. But then he began to hear soft wet sounds which he also recognised — they were the sort of noises made by doing exactly what Ginny was currently doing to him.
Ginny seemed oblivious to the activities directly across from them, and if she heard anything, she made no comment. Neville absently stroked her back whilst craning his neck to see beyond the suit of armour to the classroom door.
What he saw made him stiffen so abruptly that Ginny thought she had found a new erogenous zone and quickly set to work sucking on his adam’s apple. Neville could hardly process what his eyes were reporting: Harry and Draco Malfoy attached at the mouth, Malfoy’s hands tight on Harry’s hips whilst Harry’s fingers gripped Malfoy by the shoulders. As Neville stared in disbelief, Harry walked Malfoy backwards into the classroom. The two boys disappeared inside and the door slammed closed.
“What was that?” Ginny said, surfacing at the sound of the slamming door, as Neville almost collapsed in shock.
“Huh?” Neville mumbled incoherently, trying to focus on his girlfriend and process the vision in his mind’s eye of the Boy Who Lived and the Prince of Slytherin with their tongues in each others’ mouths. “Uh, I d-didn’t hear anything. Er, we better get to tea, c’mon.” He grabbed Ginny by the wrist and literally dragged her out from behind the armour and down the corridor to the Great Hall.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Throughout the next two days, Ron surreptitiously but carefully inspected the right hand of every girl he could. So far, no one fit the bill in Transfigurations, Muggle Studies, History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron was almost out of classes. Of course, he wasn’t in all of Harry’s classes – for example where Ron had Advanced Divination, Harry had Arithmancy. He’d have to ask Hermione which girls were in the class and then track them down.
Ron had also tried to stay awake each night since he’d seen someone in Harry’s bed. If Harry was going to try to sneak her into the dorm again, Ron wanted to be awake to see it. But as far as he could tell, since the night of his discovery, Harry had slept alone. He’d heard Harry through the curtains, softly snoring or occasionally coughing, which meant no silencing spell had been cast, and he rather doubted that Harry would have just slept the whole night if there’d been someone in bed with him. Ron certainly wouldn’t have if he had someone in his bed.
Ron didn’t want to ask Harry anything about a girl when they were in public, and they never seemed to get a chance to be alone now that he and Hermione spent so much time together. And this was definitely something Ron didn’t want her to find out about. Harry would probably kill him for saying something to Hermione. But Ron was desperate to talk to someone. Maybe a mutual male friend could shed some light…
Ron cornered Neville just before Potions and asked him if he knew if Harry were seeing anyone. Despite going very red, Neville said he didn’t know, though it was obvious that he knew something. Neville had lost a lot of his nervousness last year while pursuing Ron’s sister, and now that he and Ginny were an item, Ron didn’t think Neville would have been loathe to discuss a fellow friend’s love life, even in the most general of terms. But, it seemed Neville wouldn’t. Ron wasn’t sure what to read into that.
Disappointed, Ron persevered with Plan A: the hands.
He’d quickly crossed all the Gryffindor girls off his list — they were all either too young (Ron had arbitrarily made the cut-off age 15 for no particular reason other than that he couldn’t imagine Harry robbing the Gryffindor cradle, as it were), or they were already involved, or Ron would have seen them talking to Harry in the common room. Perhaps this girl wasn’t in any of their classes? But then where would Harry have met her? He spent all his waking time either in class, playing Quidditch (Ron had already considered and ruled out the female Quidditch players), in the Gryffindor Tower or in the library. Obviously Harry could have met a girl in the library, but then when would he ever talk to her? It’s not like he could have had a proper conversation in the library — at least not one long enough that he could go from introductions to an invitation to bed. Maybe Harry had talked to her in the library on several occasions, over several weeks? No, that didn’t seem right, either, because Ron was sure Hermione would have seen Harry with this girl if things had been going on for that long.
Of course Harry had his father’s invisibility cloak. Maybe he was stepping out under that in the middle of the night to meet someone. Although that seemed unnecessary, seeing as Harry had in fact had someone stepping in to their dorm. Still, Ron surmised, that was how he must have gotten her in to the room without anyone noticing.
Now in Potions, Ron cautiously surveyed the girls’ hands. In order to see them all, he had to make several unnecessary trips around the classroom and Snape was not the professor to let that pass, abusing him for leaving his work unattended. After that, Ron had to satisfy himself with watching the girls as they moved around him.
In between looking at the girls (something that wasn’t going unnoticed by Hermione), Ron kept his eye on Harry. It didn’t appear that he spent any great amount of time looking at or talking to anyone new. That puzzled Ron greatly. Surely if Harry were sleeping with someone, he would at least acknowledge her outside of the bedroom. Wouldn’t he?
Ron’s naiveté almost didn’t allow this train of thought to proceed to its logical destination. But at last it did.
Barely.
Maybe Harry was sleeping with a girl he didn’t want anyone to know about! That was why Neville had been so cagey; he must know, or at least suspect. If Harry were sleeping with someone…inappropriate…he would never forgive Neville for saying anything to Ron. Especially to Ron.
But who would Harry be too ashamed to admit to as a girlfriend? Ron felt an icy sinking sensation in his stomach as an unworthy thought crossed his mind. Was it…? No, Harry together with Hermione was too ridiculous to contemplate. Plus, Ron was sure neither of his friends would have side-stepped the issue for so long; as much as it would have hurt him, he knew at least one of them would have said something about their feelings long before it got to the bedroom stage.
Ron looked around the room with new eyes. So who would Harry not want to be caught with?
This year the Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins. Certainly, if Harry were seeing a Slytherin girl, he might not want it known. Voldemort might have gone to ground in the last year, but there were constant rumours of his return and everyone at Hogwarts knew which House he’d call on when marshalling his followers. Ron carefully scanned the Slytherin girls’ faces and then peeked at their hands. No one, not one girl in the class fit the bill.
Ron glanced sideways at Harry who was standing next to Dean on the opposite side of the table. He spent a good long time studying Harry, but couldn’t see that Harry was secretly looking at anyone. Mostly Harry kept his eyes on his cauldron.
On his way back to his table from the supply shelves, Draco Malfoy intentionally bumped into Harry, causing him to lose count of the number of elderberries he was adding to his potion and drop the rest. Harry shoved Malfoy back and gave him a narrow-eyed look.
“Piss off back to your own table, Ferret,” Ron said.
Malfoy shrugged. “Not my fault the floor is uneven.” He smirked and walked away as Harry stooped to retrieve his fallen ingredients.
Other than that small collision, so far as Ron observed, Harry had no contact with anyone in the class, let alone a girl.
*
That night, Harry didn’t come back to the dorm. Ron hadn’t seen him since tea-time, after which Harry had said he was going flying. Ron went to bed early but stayed awake until two in the morning waiting for Harry to return. Harry didn’t, and Ron finally gave up waiting and went to sleep.
Ron awoke late the following day, Saturday, to find Harry back in the dorm. He’d obviously come in whilst Ron was asleep, so tired that he hadn’t even pulled the curtains around the bed. On closer inspection, Ron noticed Harry was still wearing his clothes; he’d not even changed into pyjamas when he’d returned.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Harry slept until noon on Saturday. The match against Ravenclaw started promptly at two and ended promptly at two-ten when Harry, who hadn’t said much to anyone until then (Ron figured he was hung-over), triumphantly caught the Snitch, the Ravenclaw Seeker having never laid eyes on it.
Harry was ecstatic. He laughed and joked with his housemates for the rest of the day, happily drank the Firewhisky that Cormac had smuggled into the common room — thus putting paid to Ron’s idea that he was nursing a bad hangover — and even let Colin take his picture as many times as he wanted. Harry went to bed when Ron did, after the impromptu dorm party ended around one in the morning.
On Sunday, Harry spent the whole day with Ron and Hermione. They lazed about in the common room, dawdled over their meals, studied in the library and went to visit Hagrid just before tea-time.
Harry never mentioned another person, let alone spoke to one, but he did seem to be smiling and staring off into space a lot more than usual. Ron began to think he'd dreamed it all and hadn't really seen someone in Harry's bed; maybe it had been a strange waking hallucination from having eaten that fourth pork-chop at tea last week.
But why hadn't Harry come back to the room on Friday? Where had he spent the night?
Ron finally worked up the nerve to ask Harry about it once they were both in the dorm that night and the others were asleep. (Hermione didn't need to know about this just yet, it being a guy thing, and all, and he could always tell her about it later.)
"Harry, you know Friday, yeah?" Ron whispered, careful not to wake their sleeping roommates.
"What about it?"
"Well, you know how you weren't here…”
"I was here," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"You weren't here when I fell asleep," Ron clarified. He didn't admit to staying awake until two in the morning waiting for Harry to return; that might sound too…weird.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. I was up late talking to Neville after I got back from flying. I zonked out in the common room." Harry turned over, his back to Ron. "See you in the morning." The comment and his body language made it clear the conversation was over.
Ron ruminated on Harry's explanation. He was sure he had seen Neville come to bed — later than usual, it was true — but definitely before Ron fell asleep. Why wouldn't Harry have come up to bed with him?
He’s lying. To me! His best mate! And Ron was none the wiser for asking him about it. If anything, now Harry knew Ron was on to him. And he'd just passed it off as though nothing odd was going on. Ron frowned. There went any chance of a heart-to-heart between two comrades, Ron thought sourly. He'd just have to keep up the surveillance and detective work.
o0o0o0o0o0o
The next day Ron sat in Transfigurations, more curious than ever and just as frustrated. He wanted to concentrate on the lecture, but Harry's sex-life seemed far more interesting a topic than whatever McGonagall was lecturing them on.
“Now we will practice something I guarantee you will see on your Transfiguration NEWTS,” Professor McGonagall said. Everyone sat up a little straighter. “You learned the theory for this last year for your OWLS, but this year, we will be taking this technique to a more advanced level. I am talking about the transfiguration of strikingly different-sized objects. For instance, transfiguring a thimble into an elephant and back again.”
As she spoke, she pointed her wand at a small silver object on the floor. The students watched, impressed, as it grew and morphed into a very large, very confused-looking Indian elephant. The elephant flapped its ears, causing a gentle breeze, and looked around at them amiably.
"This is not the same as an animagus transforming into his or her animal form," she clarified as Hermione's hand shot up. "That is dependent only upon your inherent magic." Hermione put her hand down. Professor McGonagall continued, "This type of transfiguration, like all transfiguration, requires that the original object is held in its new form by the witch or wizard. With objects that are close in size, this requires very little effort and the person transfiguring the object can concentrate on other things. For objects as disparate in size as this," she motioned towards the elephant, who eyed her suspiciously, “it requires a good deal more concentration.”
Harry immediately thought of the transfigured sofa in the History of Magic classroom, and he resisted the urge to turn and look at Malfoy.
“Now, I would like several of you to try this,” McGonagall said. "It does not have to be an elephant. Just use your imagination. But remember: the grip of the wand is different than in like-to-like size transfigurations. There is no spell, the change is based solely on the grip and the action of the wand.” She demonstrated again by transfiguring the elephant back into a thimble. “Now, Miss Granger, would you care to go first?"
Hermione rose and stood in front of the class, regarding the thimble where it sat on the floor. Concentrating fiercely, she turned her wrist and hand in an identical fashion to that displayed by Professor McGonagall, flicked her wand carefully, and the thimble was transfigured into a grand piano.
“Well done, Miss Granger.”
Hermione changed the piano back into a thimble, smiled in a self-satisfied way, and took her seat.
"Mr Finch-Fletchley?" Justin stood and approached the front of the class. After a long moment and a couple of false starts, he transfigured the thimble into a large mantelpiece carriage clock. He looked at McGonagall. "Almost, Mr Finch-Fletchley, but think bigger. Adjust your grip thusly." She transfigured the thimble back again, rearranged his hold on the wand, and stood back from the line of fire.
Justin tried again. This time the thimble transfigured into what looked like the actual life-sized face of Big Ben. The front and ceiling of the classroom magically pushed itself outward to accommodate it. "Ah! Very good, Mr Finch-Fletchley!" Professor McGonagall said approvingly. Justin transfigured the clock-face back into a thimble and sat down to a smattering of applause.
McGonagall beckoned towards the back of the room. "Mr Malfoy next.”
Malfoy walked to the front of the class. He carefully considered the thimble, carefully aligned his fingers on his wand, and composed himself. “Good, Mr Malfoy. Everyone, please observe that this is the correct grip with which to hold your wand.”
Malfoy raised his hand to perform the spell.
“BLOODY HELL!” Ron exclaimed.
“Mr Weasley, do you have something to contribute to the lesson?” Professor McGonagall inquired. The entire class turned to look at Ron but Ron was staring wide-eyed at Malfoy.
Malfoy lowered his wand and narrowed his eyes at Ron. “Finished making a fool of yourself, Weasel?”
Ron gaped at him, speechless. He turned his head and stared at Harry. “I don’t believe it!”
Harry’s expression made it clear he was wondering why Ron was gazing so intently at him. Everyone else in the class seemed to be wondering the same thing.
Professor McGonagall raised her voice. “Mr Weasley, if you’re quite finished, I would like to get on with the class.”
Ron snapped his head back to the front. He looked past Professor McGonagall without seeing her, his attention fixed on Malfoy’s wand and the hand that held it. “Yeah, yeah, okay…” he muttered, on the verge of hyperventilating.
Hermione glared at him but he ignored her.
Ron suddenly remembered something. He turned around again and caught Neville’s eye. “You knew, didn’t you?” Ron hissed at him.
Neville studiously ignored him, but his face went red.
Professor McGonagall rapped sharply on her desk. “Mr Weasley! Do I need to take points away from my own House? I expect better from you.”
Hermione elbowed Ron hard in the ribs. “Be quiet, Ron,” she whispered.
By this time, Malfoy had transfigured the thimble back to its original state and returned to his seat. Ron didn't even see what he'd changed it into, his attention had been too focused on Harry and Neville.
“I expect you all to be practicing this skill for the next class, as I will call on you for demonstrations and will award points for the most creative use of the spell.” With that, she dismissed the class.
Ron shot out of his chair, so rattled he left behind his books and his wand. Hermione sighed and gathered them up, watching as Ron rushed to Harry’s seat, pulled him from his chair and yanked him towards the door of the classroom, pushing aside anyone in his path. Hermione gathered up Harry’s things as well, shaking her head at their odd behaviour.
*
Ron frogmarched Harry down the corridor and around the nearest corner before finally letting go of his arm. Ron’s face was bright red and his chest was heaving.
“Ron, what the hell —?” Harry said, but got no further.
“Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, please. 'Cause if you are, I’m going to throw up and then I’m going to have to kill you!” Ron’s voice rose in tenor and volume as he spoke.
Harry’s stomach threatened to drop to the floor. How did he find out? I made sure I did the spell right!! Merlin, this is bad… He tried to play dumb, on the outside chance Ron was talking about something else. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“I…you and…you two are…oh, Merlin, I can’t even say it!” Ron motioned wildly in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, sputtering incoherently. “You…the ferret…you’re…”
“What makes you think that we’re doing anything?” Harry asked, stalling, trying to look Ron in the eye and failing.
“Because I saw you. Or him. Or both of you. Last week.”
“You saw us?” Harry's face flushed. Oh, this is bad, all right… “Where?”
“In your bed!” Ron shouted. “The curtains weren’t closed properly and I saw your hands. His hands. Your hand and his…ohmygodthisistoodisgustingforwords.”
Harry decided to go on the offensive. “Why were you looking into my bed?”
“Because I thought you were having a nightmare! All I could see were your fists clenched in your sheets and I thought you were in pain or something. I was bloody well trying to HELP you!!” He stood there panting for a moment, then his eyes widened as he had a further revelation. “Oh, shit! The moaning I heard the night before that! Ohmygod! That was the two of you!”
Harry could almost see the wheels turning in Ron’s head. Or perhaps “locking up” would be the more appropriate phrase. “Er…”
“Bloody hell! I thought I knew you! I — I thought —” He couldn’t finish and turned away.
Harry reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “You do know, me, Ron.”
“Let me go,” Ron said angrily.
Harry let go of his robes and Ron began walking away.
“Ron—” Harry began, but it was too late.
o0o0o0o0o0o
"Granger knows," Malfoy said as they sat outside in the courtyard after dinner under Harry's invisibility cloak, watching a few other students taking advantage of the chilly but mellow early evening light.
They had done this a couple times before. Malfoy had suggested it a few weeks ago and Harry had to admit that it gave him a secret thrill. They'd tell their respective friends that they had to miss dinner to study or practice Quidditch, and then come out here while everyone was inside eating. They would sit, invisible, sometimes with a hand on each other's knee, pretending it meant nothing, surrounded by their classmates, who had no idea the two boys were in their midst.
"What?" Harry wasn’t listening. He was looking at Seamus watching-but-trying-not-to-look-like-he-was-watching Blaise Zabini, as the Slytherin flirted with Pansy. "Who knows?"
"Granger," Malfoy said, following Harry's gaze. "Blaise won't get anywhere. Pansy thinks I'm going to marry her."
"What?" Harry said again and turned to stare at Malfoy.
"Pansy. She thinks I'm going to marry her." Pansy let out a high-pitched giggle and patted Zabini on the arm.
"No, no, no. I mean the bit about Hermione knowing about us." Harry realised he was speaking a little too loudly and toned it down. "Has she said something to you?"
"Actually, I told her. I wanted to make sure Weasley wouldn't kill me." Malfoy snorted as Zabini leaned in and whispered something in Pansy's ear.
"Oh?" Harry said. “How did you manage that, then?”
“I explained to her I didn’t want that boyfriend of hers to hex me into oblivion, because you know he’ll think this was all my idea and that I was forcing you to have sex with me or something—”
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Harry assured him. I think he pretty much blames me, Harry finished in his head.
“Whatever, Potter. I didn’t tell her outright, but I might as well have as it took her ages to put two and two together. She asked if I were doing something to you and I said I was — in a manner of speaking. But nothing you weren’t doing to me.”
Harry laughed and the cloak shook around them. He straightened it, making sure no part of them was visible.
“She finally worked it out when I gave her so many hints she couldn’t possibly not understand. And I thought she was bright! Anyway, she couldn’t believe it; she thought we were arguing over Quidditch but couldn’t understand Ron’s reaction.”
“Yes, that was some outburst,” Harry said in agreement. “What happened when you told her?”
“She turned into a complete girl. She plastered a stupid smile on her face and said that we made an adorable couple. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“At least she didn’t punch you in the face,” Harry said, and kissed him on the cheek.
Malfoy moved his head back and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “Ugh, Potter, please.” But he smirked as he said it.
“Is she going to talk to Ron?” Harry asked, ignoring Malfoy’s false disgust.
“I think I’ve convinced her to try and calm the Weasel down, but how she’s going to do that is beyond me.” Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it's not my problem. He's your friend."
Harry blinked a few times, digesting the new information. It had all seemed so simple. Now, suddenly, it had become very, very complicated. "I don't know how I'm going to face him."
"Do you think he's told anyone?"
Malfoy suddenly sounded worried. But over what? Yes, having their relationship exposed would be completely unthinkable. They hadn't really considered it possible until now. Oh, they'd taken the odd step or two so as not be obvious, but they hadn't been as careful as maybe they should have been. Often they didn't wait until a door was shut firmly behind them, or forgot to utter a silencing spell as accurately as they should have. Harry realised they’d been living on borrowed time, fooling themselves into thinking it could go on indefinitely.
And he also realised he didn't have nearly as much to lose if their…relationship were to be discovered. Malfoy, on the other hand... Then again, half the time Harry never knew what Malfoy was thinking. Often he'd thought that he'd learned to read the Slytherin only to find himself completely wrong in his assumptions.
"Potter?" Malfoy’s voice and a well-placed elbow brought Harry back to the question at hand.
"I've no idea. I guess I'll find out later." He put his hand over Malfoy’s. Malfoy didn't respond, but he didn’t move his hand out from under Harry's. "I suppose we're safe. I don't think anyone else knows, and I can't see Ron convincing anyone of what he knows, can you?"
"I guess it is a little bit…" Malfoy said quietly and then trailed off.
"Far-fetched?" Harry suggested, smiling a little. "C'mon, Malfoy, would you believe this — " he held up their hands "— if you weren't in the middle of it?"
"I guess not; I'd be sitting over there flirting with Pansy, instead." As he spoke he saw Zabini scoot away from Pansy and look up past Harry and Malfoy who were still hidden under the cloak. The two boys looked over their shoulders to see Professor Dumbledore strolling into the courtyard, stopping to idly chat with the students scattered around the place.
Harry squeezed Malfoy’s hand and whispered, "I don’t think Ron will say anything to anyone but me; he'd be too embarrassed. And we can trust Hermione to keep our secret. As long as we remember the Silencing and Privacy charms, I’m sure we're safe enough from anyone else finding out."
They watched Dumbledore's robes flutter as he passed them. "Good evening, gentlemen," said the old wizard — to nothing at all.
The End
...for the moment.
Author:
nursedarryArtist:
candygram_5000 Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Set: Hogwarts Era
Rating: NC-17 (just)
Word Count: 17,241
Character/Pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy (mentions of Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley)
Warnings: Sexual content, strong language. Also, this fic is unfinished. Although it stops at a natural point, there’s absolutely no resolution aside from them both getting a leg-over. There will be an ending eventually, I promise.
Summary: 6th year, AU. Boredom has set in at Hogwarts. But Harry’s life becomes anything but boring when he ends up sitting next to Draco Malfoy in class. This is mostly just fluffy smut – basically a thinly-veiled excuse to get to the good bits.
Author's Notes: Obviously, this project would be nothing without the wonderful art by
candygram_5000. Huge thanks and a date with the Edmund Blackadder of your choice to my beta delphipsmith. And much love goes out toalovelycupoftea and cassie_black12 for being the best cheerleaders this side of Dallas.Special note: Although the art is embedded in the fic, please make sure to click on
candygram_5000’s page and leave her some love. She deserves it!“I’ve left something in the library, hopefully I can still get in,” Harry called in answer to a question from Ron as he hurried out through the portrait. He’d hidden his invisibility cloak under his robe and had moved fast enough through the common room that he reckoned his friends hadn’t noticed anything.
When he got to the appointed rendezvous he found Malfoy pacing the corridor, looking wary. He was dressed in robe and school shoes.
“What have you got on under that?” Harry asked as he withdrew the cloak from his robe.
“Keen, are we Potter?” Malfoy drawled.
Harry was familiar enough with his tone to suspect that Malfoy was covering his nervousness with sarcasm. Choosing not to reply and perhaps unnerve Malfoy further, Harry just smiled.
“My pyjamas, if you must know,” Malfoy said, almost defiantly. He evidently wanted Harry to feel bad for thinking that he wouldn’t have been prepared as requested.
“Here, then.” Harry tossed the cloak to Malfoy, who reflexively reached out and caught the garment.
“Potter, where...? Do you know how valuable these things are?” Malfoy held the cloak between his hands and stared at it. Then he frowned. “Ah. Of course you have one of these. That’s how you got around Hogsmead in third year. I should have known Dumbledore would have made sure his precious hero wouldn’t get caught —”
“Shut it, Malfoy,” Harry said brusquely, turning and walking in the direction of the Tower. “It belonged to my father. I’m sure you know why he doesn’t need it anymore.”
Malfoy stayed silent for the remainder of the walk through the corridors. When they reached the foot of the stairs which would lead them irrevocably into Gryffindor territory, Malfoy pulled out his wand from his sleeve and donned the cloak. “Don’t dawdle, Potter,” he hissed at Harry’s back as they started up the stairs.
Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Now who’s keen, Malfoy?”
“Didn’t let you in then, eh?” Ron asked as Harry came through the portrait hole empty-handed. He and Neville were in the middle of a game of chess.
Harry held back, making sure he felt Malfoy’s presence behind him before walking forward into the common room. “Um...huh?”
“Madam Pince. Didn’t let you in,” Ron repeated.
“Oh,” Harry said quickly. “Yeah. Bad luck. I’ll have to go back to the library early to get that book before breakfast. Don’t let me forget,” he added, knowing Ron wouldn’t remember, as he usually woke later than any of them. A sharp poke in the spine spurred Harry on. “I’ll, er, see you guys in the morning.” He walked to the stairs. Once through the door and was sure they had the dorm to themselves, he turned and growled. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t you? That hurt.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a response,” Malfoy’s disembodied voice said. “Can we get on with this?”
“Malfoy, this is for your benefit, too. If you’re going to be more of a prat than usual, feel free to leave the cloak with me and go back to Slytherin,” Harry said to the space in front of him he thought Malfoy was occupying.
“I don’t think so, Potter.” The voice came from by the window. Malfoy was obviously looking out at the view, something the Slytherin dorms, buried in the dungeons, entirely lacked.
Harry started toward the window but stopped at his bed and sat. “C’mere,” he said to the empty room. “Before someone else decides to come in.”
The mattress sagged beside him as Malfoy sat down. Harry pulled the curtains closed and then tugged the cloak away from the other boy. Malfoy’s hair was tousled and he sat very straight, looking more than a little apprehensive, if not of the surroundings, perhaps of the promise of the night’s activities.
“I’m not spending the night with you, Potter,” Malfoy spat. “I don’t like you, you know. I don’t want cuddling or pillow talk or any of that nonsense.”
“Sure, Malfoy,” Harry said, taking off his shoes and throwing them to the floor. “Whatever you say.” He wasn’t convinced.
“I’m serious,” Malfoy insisted. “This is purely sexual gratification. And maybe something to brag about should we both come through...” he left the thought unfinished, but Harry didn’t need to hear the rest to know what he was talking about.
Harry sighed, trying to tune out the usual Malfoy rubbish and concentrate on the next orgasm. As any sixteen-year-old should. He scooted up to the head of the bed. “Are you going to join me or are you just going to sit there?”
“I’m actually thinking about leaving. I don’t think this was a very good idea.”
“Feel free to leave,” Harry said, snatching the invisibility cloak and stuffing it behind his back between himself and the headboard just as Malfoy reached for it. Malfoy’s Seeker reflexes were good, but he succeeded only in lunging across Harry’s reclining body. Which was just where Harry wanted him. “That’s better,” Harry whispered into Malfoy’s hair and pulled him up into kissing range.
Several minutes later, Malfoy clearly was no longer thinking about leaving. Harry gently rolled him onto his back and his hands slowly worked their way down the front of Malfoy’s robe. “Are you cold, Malfoy, or is there another reason you’re not taking this thing off?” He scooted down the length of Malfoy’s body and reached for the bottom hem.
“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy replied, but Harry could tell he was smiling by the way he said it.
“No problem, Malfoy,” Harry said and disappeared under the other boy’s robes.
“What the hell—?” Malfoy propped himself up on his elbows, only to fall back again with a sigh of pleasure as Harry’s hands worked their way under his pyjamas. As Malfoy couldn’t see him, Harry decided to be as crafty as possible. He carefully avoided touching any part of Malfoy that he knew the other boy was desperate for him to touch. Instead, he tickled Malfoy’s ribs, pinched his nipples, stroked his thighs and then ran his tongue all over Malfoy’s abdomen.
By the time Malfoy finally hauled his robe over his head, Harry could see he was a quivering mass of excitement.
Harry carefully pulled Malfoy’s soft green pyjama bottoms down his hips and lowered his head, but before he could touch his tongue to Malfoy’s body the sound of voices stopped him. Both boys stilled, holding their breath as Harry heard his dorm mates’ laughter coming from the common room. He quickly groped for his wand which he’d abandoned on the bed — he found it underneath Malfoy — and muttered a hasty Silencio. Then he pounced on Malfoy’s cock before the other boy could change his mind about doing this in the dorm.
However strange fondling Malfoy’s penis had been the night before, this was tenfold as strange. Harry had never even thought about fellatio until last week, when the world of sexuality became much more real to him. And although he’d always had a healthy fantasy life, he could honestly say he’d never imagined himself on the giving end of a blowjob. Of course, afterwards, Malfoy might just feel like reciprocating...
Malfoy tasted like he smelled, musky and warm undercut with the sharp tang of soap, all of which assailed Harry’s senses as Harry wrapped his mouth around Malfoy’s cock. It was a mouthful, indeed, and Harry tried not to drool, inexpertly pulling and pushing his lips up and down Malfoy’s shaft. He made a conscious effort to keep his teeth covered (that much he’d figured out on his own), but what would Malfoy like? Or would he not care about technique and just be grateful to have Harry’s mouth anywhere near this part of his anatomy? Harry used his hand to secure the foreskin of Malfoy’s penis off the head and concentrated on that, swirling his tongue around, imagining how that would feel on himself.
Perhaps that wasn’t the most prudent thought; he was already very hard, and at this rate, he was in danger of coming even before Malfoy did.
“Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy moaned from above him, “faster.” Malfoy’s voice was accompanied by a hand which found its way into Harry’s hair and pushed Harry’s head firmly down. Harry had no trouble interpreting the gesture. He opened his mouth wider and attempted to get as much of Malfoy into his mouth as possible. A bad idea, it turned out, as it made him gag, but he quickly recovered and using his hand, his mouth, and liberal applications of his tongue, managed to cover most of Malfoy’s cock with some part of his body.
Now Harry remembered Malfoy’s comments about screwing him, which made him envision Malfoy inside him and then maybe himself inside Malfoy, and he lost all control. Harry felt himself coming in his clothes and clenched his fist around Malfoy’s cock as waves of pleasure washed through him. Absorbed with this, Harry missed the warning Malfoy was kindly giving him by pulling on his hair so forcefully it would have hurt, had Harry not been having a truly stupendous orgasm at the time.
Just as Harry was recovered enough to give his full attention back to Malfoy’s cock, the other boy came, flooding Harry’s mouth with warm semen. This shocked Harry; he’d known from personal experience that semen was warm, yet was still surprised when it began pulsing into his throat. He spluttered and gagged, trying not to cough all over Malfoy. Harry quickly wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his long-sleeved t-shirt and looked up.
“I did try to warn you,” Malfoy said almost crossly and he yanked his pyjamas up his legs before Harry could touch him again.
Yeah, I guess I’d feel disoriented too, if I had an orgasm whilst the person giving it to me sounded like he was choking to death, Harry thought, a little discomfited yet powerfully excited at the same time. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t notice until it was too late. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Wonderful,” said Malfoy without any emotion. He tried to sit up, but Harry held him down.
“How was it, anyway?” Harry asked, moving to lie atop Malfoy with his full body weight.
“What do you think, Potter?” Malfoy said sarcastically, trying to shove Harry off. “Get off, you’re heavy. And why are you all wet—? Ah. I guess I don’t need to ask you if you enjoyed it, then.” Harry flushed and lifted up, but Malfoy reached for his wand. “No, hold still a minute.” He cast a cleaning spell at Harry’s midsection.
“Thanks,” Harry said, embarrassed. He realized he’d now managed to come three times without Malfoy even laying a hand on him.
“It’s okay, Potty,” Malfoy teased. “Now, I mean it, get off of me.”
Harry rolled off and flopped down beside the other boy. He expected Malfoy to get up and demand the cloak so he could leave, but oddly, Malfoy remained where he was, breathing deeply and looking very sated.
Harry leaned in to kiss him, but Malfoy shifted away from him quickly. “Don’t even think about coming near me with those lips after having my cock in your mouth.”
Harry lay back again, frustrated. “Fine, Malfoy, whatever.”
Malfoy rolled toward Harry and raised himself up on an elbow. “Potter, you amaze me. Don’t you even know a simple teeth cleaning spell?” Malfoy said. “What do you use to clean up after...you know...” he made a gesture with his hand that Harry couldn’t possibly misunderstand.
“I just use my shirt or whatever’s handy, usually,” Harry yawned.
“If ever I needed reminding you’re a half-blood...” Malfoy sneered.
Harry jerked his head up angrily. “What’s that, Malfoy? I’m not wizard enough for you? I bet you didn’t think that five minutes ago!” He collapsed back on the bed, feeling cross.
“Merlin, Potter, will you shut up?” Malfoy hissed.
“I said a Silencing charm, for god’s sake,” Harry reminded him, and closed his eyes. He’d never felt so lethargic in his life.
“One can only hope it worked...” Malfoy said crossly. Harry felt him slump back onto the mattress. I guess he is staying, Harry thought, his mood improving slightly.
Harry opened tired eyes when he felt fingers poking him in the ribs. He didn’t bother to reach for his glasses, but he was instantly awake. Oh god, I’ve woken up with him! “What time is it?” he asked in a raspy voice. He cleared his throat.
Malfoy cast a Tempus charm. “Half-two,” he whispered.
“How long was I asleep?” Harry whispered back, a little embarrassed. He hoped he hadn’t been drooling.
“How should I know?” Malfoy said, covering a yawn with his hand. “I heard your noisy neighbours tromping in about midnight, I guess, but —”
“You fell asleep, too,” Harry teased, lifting his head up and smiling. Malfoy scowled. He seemed ill-at-ease and Harry wondered why he hadn’t left yet.
“So, I guess it doesn’t take much to get you off, does it, Potter?” Malfoy asked rather unkindly.
Harry surprised himself by keeping calm – after all, he could hardly deny it. “I guess not.” He couldn’t explain it; there was just something so arousing in seeing someone else as turned on as he was, knowing he had made it so. He considered a moment. “But you haven’t done much to me,” he continued. “Maybe you’re the same.”
“Is that a hint, Potty?” Malfoy said, eyes running over Harry’s still-clothed body.
“Er...” Harry blushed and felt his cock twitch. “I guess it is.” He reached to touch Malfoy’s hair, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist.
He pushed Harry’s arm back against the bed and crawled on top of him. Harry sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Holy shit, he thought. His over-sensitive prick started to fill with blood as Malfoy bent his head and began kissing his neck.
Harry’s breath came faster as Malfoy reached for the hem of his jumper and pushed it up to Harry’s collar. Malfoy began licking Harry’s chest, moving slowly from one side to the other and back again. Harry thought Malfoy’s mouth was much better at this than at speaking. Now’s probably not the best time to mention that, though, Harry considered through a warm haze of lust.
He could feel Malfoy’s erection pushing into his knee as the other boy slowly slid lower, his tongue moving down to Harry’s abdomen.
Harry’s muzzy mind was functioning enough to twig that perhaps Malfoy hadn’t yet left because he hadn’t done this to Harry. Or really touched him at all, for that matter. Was Malfoy feeling obliged to return the favour? Or did he, just maybe, actually want to?
As Malfoy’s fingers found their way to the buttons of Harry’s jeans, he decided he didn’t much care what Malfoy’s motivation was.
Amazing, thought Harry. Utterly fucking fantastic! He loved the feel of Malfoy’s smooth fingers around his shaft and pulling gently at his foreskin. It was wonderful not knowing what he would feel next...so different from – and miles better than – any wank he’d ever had.
“God...”
Ron thought the nightmares might have started again. Harry’s moaning had woken him up last night. Ron was worried for his friend’s well-being; Harry had said that in his dreams he could see through Voldemort's eyes and vice versa. If the nightmares were coming back, well, somebody ought to do something. Right?
“You okay, mate?” Ron asked at breakfast, spearing sausages like there was no tomorrow.
Harry looked tired, his brow furrowed slightly, but he managed a small smile. “Yeah. Why?” He reached for the marmalade.
Ron looked down into his tea. “Heard you moaning in your sleep. Thought you’d had a nightmare last night,” he mumbled. It wasn’t something they discussed often. Ron sounded embarrassed for him.
Holy shit, Harry thought, his mind racing. I know I cast a Silencing spell last night! He clearly remembered grabbing his wand from underneath Malfoy’s bare bum. Malfoy. Bare. God... Underneath his robe, Harry’s sixteen-year-old body responded to his memories.
What had he said? His heart sank. Oh, bloody hell, I said Silencio, not Muffliato. I made it impossible for us to hear anyone else in the room!. But there hadn’t been anyone else in the room at the time. And Malfoy had said he’d heard Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean come back in, so the Silencio hadn’t even worked! God, I’m such shit at simple spell-work! I can not tell Malfoy about this. Wait, didn’t he notice I used the wrong spell? Harry’s erection forcibly reminded him of what they’d been doing at the time. Perhaps not, thought Harry. He was lucky he could remember his own name as Malfoy had taken him in his mouth.
Harry's glanced quickly over Ron's shoulder at Malfoy, but the Slytherin was busy talking to Zabini and didn't notice Harry looking at him. "Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to scare you. Wasn't one of those dreams."
Harry realised a second too late that he'd set himself up. "Must have been one of those other kinds, then, huh?" Ron asked, grinning around a mouthful of sausage. Harry's face went very hot and he knew he must have turned red.
"No!" he said too quickly, which just seemed to reinforce Ron's opinion. "Oh god, Ron, just shut up," Harry moaned and covered his face with his hands.
Ron chuckled knowingly. When Harry felt it was safe to look up, he saw Malfoy peering at him from the Slytherin table, his eyes harsh, but his lips forming a small smirk.
Harry was going to have to remember to do a proper Silencing spell next time. And practice, so it would work.
Next time, he thought, now painfully hard.
The next time turned out to be the next night.
“It’s all coming off then. And you’re staying.” Harry clarified his conditions if Malfoy really was going to shag him.
“I am not staying. I refuse to wake up in the Gryffindor dorm,” Malfoy whined.
“You already have,” Harry reminded him.
“Not on purpose, and I wasn’t there all night. And besides, that was your fault; I was too tired after...” his voice trailing off, Malfoy turned his head away, seemingly at a loss to explain further.
“What the hell, Malfoy? How the fuck was it my fault?” Harry was used to this dynamic, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“I don’t know; your mouth just sucked the life out of me or something.”
Harry barked out a laugh. By this time, though, he had said the correct Silencing spell and double-checked that it was working. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
Malfoy said nothing.
“Get. Them. Off.”
Frowning, Malfoy complied, slowly removing every scrap of clothing, as Harry did the same.
Even if he wasn’t having nightmares, Ron could usually hear Harry’s soft snoring in the middle of the night. The complete absence of sound indicated that some type of Silencing spell had been placed around the bed, but the curtains were not quite closed, there was a small opening where the curtains came together. Maybe Harry was being considerate of his dorm-mates, Ron thought. After his nightmare earlier in the week, perhaps Harry was making sure they wouldn’t be disturbed again if he were to battle through another bad night, but acknowledging their concern by leaving the little gap so they could keep a wary eye on him.
Through this triangular opening in the curtains, Ron could see hands clutching the sheets — fingers of one hand entwined with those of the other. Weird. It looked as though Harry was shifting around and clenching his hands together whilst in the throes of a bad dream. The curtains twitched rhythmically.
Ron wondered if he should wake Harry. Sometimes it was dangerous to do so; Harry would lash out, sitting up sharply, wand aimed at Ron’s head, eyes wide and desperate, seeing some horrific event rather than the concerned face of a trusted friend.
Ron watched as Harry’s hands slowly unclenched. He hoped Harry was returning to normal sleep. The hands came apart, one slowly rubbing against the other.
It was then Ron noticed two things. In the moonlight Harry’s hands appeared to be two different shades, one considerably lighter than the other. Although that could be explained by the shadows cast against Harry’s skin by the curtains, the other thing Ron noticed couldn’t be dismissed as readily: both hands were right hands.
Someone was holding Harry’s hand. Someone had been grasping Harry’s hand only moments ago and was now gently caressing his fingers and wrist.
In short, Harry was not alone in his bed. Ron could barely believe it. When had Harry started seeing someone? And who? And why, for the love of Merlin, hadn’t Harry told him about it? Harry had told Hermione and him everything about Cho, and Harry had only kissed her! And now it looked as though he was doing a lot more than kissing someone. Obviously Harry hadn’t wanted to discuss this relationship with anyone or he’d have told Ron. Wouldn’t he? Ron was Harry’s best friend! They didn’t have any secrets.
Ron pondered this for a moment. That wasn’t entirely true; Ron hadn’t told Harry about all of the stuff he and Hermione had got up to. Though he and Hermione hadn’t done much more than a bit of kissing and minor groping, and Ron had considered himself lucky to get that far. And if he and Hermione had been doing something that involved a bed, Ron doubted very much that he would be very forthcoming to Harry with that information either.
In the semi-darkness, Ron noticed movement again. Both of the hands were withdrawn from view, and a rearrangement of bodies exposed what looked like part of someone’s naked back in the open space between the curtains. A hand drifted in and out of view, gently stroking the expanse of pale skin.
Ron was torn between coughing discreetly, which most likely wouldn’t be heard through the silencing spell, or rolling over and going to sleep. Of course there was a third alternative: adjusting his position so as to get a better view through the small opening in the curtains of Harry’s bed.
Ron decided on that option. He slowly pulled himself forward, trying to see further into the recesses under Harry’s canopy.
Ronald Weasley, what do you think you’re doing? the voices of his mother and Hermione said in his head at the same time.
Ron scrunched back down under the covers. He thought about what he’d seen, trying to glean some idea of who it could be that had won the heart (or at least the body) of the Boy Who Lived. Ron could still see pale skin. That was about three-quarters of the girls at Hogwarts, so no help there. He’d seen long agile-looking fingers. Ron contemplated the girls who were musicians or artists. Again, a good proportion of the female student body fell into this category; a lot of them were into that creative stuff. He’d also seen a glint of silver metal— a ring. Again, that didn’t really narrow the field. Many of the girls at school wore jewellery.
Ron was intrigued. He’d have to keep a careful eye out to see if he could recognise this girl from just her hands, as it was unlikely that he’d see any of the girls’ naked backs. He hadn’t even seen his own girl’s naked back.
Ron’s thoughts turned to recent conversations he’d had with Harry. Okay, Ron admitted to himself, there hadn’t been many. He hadn’t spent much time with Harry lately, since he and Hermione were still in the “honeymoon phase” of their relationship, but they did speak in class sometimes. And certainly at the Gryffindor table during meals…
Ron’s mouth fell open. What had he said to Harry just that morning at breakfast? That he had heard him moaning and was worried that his nightmares had returned. Bloody hell! That wasn’t Harry having a nightmare — that was Harry having it off with someone! Determined now to solve the puzzle, Ron finally drifted off to sleep.
The following afternoon Harry sat in the Gryffindor section of the Quidditch stands. There hadn’t been a match that day, and he had thought to go flying on his own. Walking down to the pitch, he’d changed his mind about flying; he was not so sore that he couldn’t sit on a broom —maybe — but he didn’t want the added distraction of the extra sensations.
He could have been alone in the dorm room, of course, but aside from the fact that his dorm-mates would no doubt find him and ask them to join him in whatever activities they had planned, his bed...his bed smelled of Malfoy. Up until that morning’s shower, Harry’s skin and his hair had smelled of Malfoy too.
Harry wanted a place he could think objectively. He couldn’t do that surrounded by people. So, here he sat, cold, but keen to be alone with his thoughts and not distracted by sensual memories.
So, I’ve finally had sex, he thought to himself. Kind of...well, I’m definitely not a virgin anymore, that much is true.
It’d been...weird...it’d been messy...it’d hurt. ..
It’d been brilliant.
Harry had had no chance to learn about proper sexual etiquette of any kind before it had become a reality for him. He knew that with a woman you needed Contraception spells, he even remembered Dean explaining some of them to him. But as it had taken Harry six years to learn Oculus Reparo, and he used that frequently, there was no way he’d remember anything to do with the bedroom.
Harry had heard from Seamus who had heard from Anthony who had heard from a seventh year Ravenclaw that there were Lubrication spells you could use with boys. Again, he’d been told it once, but had never had a reason to remember it.
Luckily, Malfoy remembered it. Almost. He’d said it incorrectly the first time and nothing had happened; he’d needed to change the stress on the word before his hand was covered in the warm gel-like substance.
Harry closed his eyes, remembering the feel of tentative slick fingers sliding uncomfortably then deliciously inside him. Malfoy had knelt behind him, Harry on his knees and resting his weight on his elbows. He had felt self-conscious and exposed, but also very aroused, had desperately wanted to touch himself, but also didn’t want anything to detract from the sensation of the other boy’s touch.
Malfoy had been nearly silent throughout the act. There had been a curt “Ready, Potter?” and then a moan of...what? Satisfaction? Harry thought. Whatever it was, Malfoy had made the most wonderful-sounding noise as he pushed himself inside, even as Harry felt like he was being torn apart. He had gasped and sworn, but Malfoy, who he was convinced would have spared little thought to the boy beneath him, placed a hand in the centre of Harry’s back. He may have just been steadying himself, but to Harry, it had been soothing, and he felt himself relax around Malfoy to the point where he no longer felt the pain as acutely.
There had been no warning before Malfoy moved, but part of Harry was desperate for him to do so. Instead, Harry had kept still, getting used to the unfamiliar sensations. Within moments, it went from painful to not-so-bad and finally to wow, as Malfoy moved within him. Harry had had little time to enjoy the new feelings before Malfoy made a surprised-sounding gasp and collapsed onto Harry’s back.
“Merlin,” the Slytherin sighed into Harry’s hair. Harry lowered himself down against the bed, his erection pressed painfully against the bedclothes. All he wanted to do was rub against the sheets until he came, but Malfoy’s weight made that impossible.
“Malfoy, are you okay?” Harry asked weakly.
“Gods, yes,” Malfoy replied quickly. Harry smiled, despite his discomfort. He knew Malfoy would never have been so impulsively honest had he had time to collect his thoughts and analyse the experience. Harry reached out awkwardly and stroked Malfoy’s hair as the Slytherin’s head drooped beside his on the pillow. Malfoy didn’t move away.
“Was that your first time?” Harry asked quietly, hand still stroking.
Malfoy said nothing. He didn’t need to.
Neville and Ginny were exchanging furtive kisses behind the suit of armour just outside the History of Magic classroom. They enjoyed taking a few minutes in the afternoon for a quick snog, a promise of things to come later in the evening.
Of course, it was a busy time in the castle and private places were hard to come by, and today was no exception. Neville heard a voice down the corridor, getting louder, which meant someone, or several someones, were headed in their direction. Ginny was never self-conscious about public displays of affection, but Neville was still rather shy — a hangover from his stern upbringing. He pulled Ginny further behind the armour and kept a wary eye out, hoping that whoever it was would pass them without stopping. No such luck. Footsteps came up to the door of the classroom opposite and paused there.
A whisper floated across the hall. “Hurry up, we’ve only got ten minutes till tea.” The voice sounded like Harry’s, but Neville didn’t want to distract Ginny from her interest in his neck by poking his head out to see. From across the hall came a squeaking sound like a door handle being turned, followed by a sharp bang and then a rough scraping noise. “Wait, the door – ow, my foot!” complained a different voice. It, too, was male, and one Neville couldn’t place straightaway. “Potter, my foot —”
Now Neville did recognise the voice from the way it had said Harry’s surname. He’d heard that voice say “Potter” since first year: Malfoy. Neville wondered if they were having a fight — he heard scuffling sounds and the squeak of hinges again. But then he began to hear soft wet sounds which he also recognised — they were the sort of noises made by doing exactly what Ginny was currently doing to him.
Ginny seemed oblivious to the activities directly across from them, and if she heard anything, she made no comment. Neville absently stroked her back whilst craning his neck to see beyond the suit of armour to the classroom door.
What he saw made him stiffen so abruptly that Ginny thought she had found a new erogenous zone and quickly set to work sucking on his adam’s apple. Neville could hardly process what his eyes were reporting: Harry and Draco Malfoy attached at the mouth, Malfoy’s hands tight on Harry’s hips whilst Harry’s fingers gripped Malfoy by the shoulders. As Neville stared in disbelief, Harry walked Malfoy backwards into the classroom. The two boys disappeared inside and the door slammed closed.
“What was that?” Ginny said, surfacing at the sound of the slamming door, as Neville almost collapsed in shock.
“Huh?” Neville mumbled incoherently, trying to focus on his girlfriend and process the vision in his mind’s eye of the Boy Who Lived and the Prince of Slytherin with their tongues in each others’ mouths. “Uh, I d-didn’t hear anything. Er, we better get to tea, c’mon.” He grabbed Ginny by the wrist and literally dragged her out from behind the armour and down the corridor to the Great Hall.
Throughout the next two days, Ron surreptitiously but carefully inspected the right hand of every girl he could. So far, no one fit the bill in Transfigurations, Muggle Studies, History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron was almost out of classes. Of course, he wasn’t in all of Harry’s classes – for example where Ron had Advanced Divination, Harry had Arithmancy. He’d have to ask Hermione which girls were in the class and then track them down.
Ron had also tried to stay awake each night since he’d seen someone in Harry’s bed. If Harry was going to try to sneak her into the dorm again, Ron wanted to be awake to see it. But as far as he could tell, since the night of his discovery, Harry had slept alone. He’d heard Harry through the curtains, softly snoring or occasionally coughing, which meant no silencing spell had been cast, and he rather doubted that Harry would have just slept the whole night if there’d been someone in bed with him. Ron certainly wouldn’t have if he had someone in his bed.
Ron didn’t want to ask Harry anything about a girl when they were in public, and they never seemed to get a chance to be alone now that he and Hermione spent so much time together. And this was definitely something Ron didn’t want her to find out about. Harry would probably kill him for saying something to Hermione. But Ron was desperate to talk to someone. Maybe a mutual male friend could shed some light…
Ron cornered Neville just before Potions and asked him if he knew if Harry were seeing anyone. Despite going very red, Neville said he didn’t know, though it was obvious that he knew something. Neville had lost a lot of his nervousness last year while pursuing Ron’s sister, and now that he and Ginny were an item, Ron didn’t think Neville would have been loathe to discuss a fellow friend’s love life, even in the most general of terms. But, it seemed Neville wouldn’t. Ron wasn’t sure what to read into that.
Disappointed, Ron persevered with Plan A: the hands.
He’d quickly crossed all the Gryffindor girls off his list — they were all either too young (Ron had arbitrarily made the cut-off age 15 for no particular reason other than that he couldn’t imagine Harry robbing the Gryffindor cradle, as it were), or they were already involved, or Ron would have seen them talking to Harry in the common room. Perhaps this girl wasn’t in any of their classes? But then where would Harry have met her? He spent all his waking time either in class, playing Quidditch (Ron had already considered and ruled out the female Quidditch players), in the Gryffindor Tower or in the library. Obviously Harry could have met a girl in the library, but then when would he ever talk to her? It’s not like he could have had a proper conversation in the library — at least not one long enough that he could go from introductions to an invitation to bed. Maybe Harry had talked to her in the library on several occasions, over several weeks? No, that didn’t seem right, either, because Ron was sure Hermione would have seen Harry with this girl if things had been going on for that long.
Of course Harry had his father’s invisibility cloak. Maybe he was stepping out under that in the middle of the night to meet someone. Although that seemed unnecessary, seeing as Harry had in fact had someone stepping in to their dorm. Still, Ron surmised, that was how he must have gotten her in to the room without anyone noticing.
Now in Potions, Ron cautiously surveyed the girls’ hands. In order to see them all, he had to make several unnecessary trips around the classroom and Snape was not the professor to let that pass, abusing him for leaving his work unattended. After that, Ron had to satisfy himself with watching the girls as they moved around him.
In between looking at the girls (something that wasn’t going unnoticed by Hermione), Ron kept his eye on Harry. It didn’t appear that he spent any great amount of time looking at or talking to anyone new. That puzzled Ron greatly. Surely if Harry were sleeping with someone, he would at least acknowledge her outside of the bedroom. Wouldn’t he?
Ron’s naiveté almost didn’t allow this train of thought to proceed to its logical destination. But at last it did.
Barely.
Maybe Harry was sleeping with a girl he didn’t want anyone to know about! That was why Neville had been so cagey; he must know, or at least suspect. If Harry were sleeping with someone…inappropriate…he would never forgive Neville for saying anything to Ron. Especially to Ron.
But who would Harry be too ashamed to admit to as a girlfriend? Ron felt an icy sinking sensation in his stomach as an unworthy thought crossed his mind. Was it…? No, Harry together with Hermione was too ridiculous to contemplate. Plus, Ron was sure neither of his friends would have side-stepped the issue for so long; as much as it would have hurt him, he knew at least one of them would have said something about their feelings long before it got to the bedroom stage.
Ron looked around the room with new eyes. So who would Harry not want to be caught with?
This year the Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins. Certainly, if Harry were seeing a Slytherin girl, he might not want it known. Voldemort might have gone to ground in the last year, but there were constant rumours of his return and everyone at Hogwarts knew which House he’d call on when marshalling his followers. Ron carefully scanned the Slytherin girls’ faces and then peeked at their hands. No one, not one girl in the class fit the bill.
Ron glanced sideways at Harry who was standing next to Dean on the opposite side of the table. He spent a good long time studying Harry, but couldn’t see that Harry was secretly looking at anyone. Mostly Harry kept his eyes on his cauldron.
On his way back to his table from the supply shelves, Draco Malfoy intentionally bumped into Harry, causing him to lose count of the number of elderberries he was adding to his potion and drop the rest. Harry shoved Malfoy back and gave him a narrow-eyed look.
“Piss off back to your own table, Ferret,” Ron said.
Malfoy shrugged. “Not my fault the floor is uneven.” He smirked and walked away as Harry stooped to retrieve his fallen ingredients.
Other than that small collision, so far as Ron observed, Harry had no contact with anyone in the class, let alone a girl.
That night, Harry didn’t come back to the dorm. Ron hadn’t seen him since tea-time, after which Harry had said he was going flying. Ron went to bed early but stayed awake until two in the morning waiting for Harry to return. Harry didn’t, and Ron finally gave up waiting and went to sleep.
Ron awoke late the following day, Saturday, to find Harry back in the dorm. He’d obviously come in whilst Ron was asleep, so tired that he hadn’t even pulled the curtains around the bed. On closer inspection, Ron noticed Harry was still wearing his clothes; he’d not even changed into pyjamas when he’d returned.
Harry slept until noon on Saturday. The match against Ravenclaw started promptly at two and ended promptly at two-ten when Harry, who hadn’t said much to anyone until then (Ron figured he was hung-over), triumphantly caught the Snitch, the Ravenclaw Seeker having never laid eyes on it.
Harry was ecstatic. He laughed and joked with his housemates for the rest of the day, happily drank the Firewhisky that Cormac had smuggled into the common room — thus putting paid to Ron’s idea that he was nursing a bad hangover — and even let Colin take his picture as many times as he wanted. Harry went to bed when Ron did, after the impromptu dorm party ended around one in the morning.
On Sunday, Harry spent the whole day with Ron and Hermione. They lazed about in the common room, dawdled over their meals, studied in the library and went to visit Hagrid just before tea-time.
Harry never mentioned another person, let alone spoke to one, but he did seem to be smiling and staring off into space a lot more than usual. Ron began to think he'd dreamed it all and hadn't really seen someone in Harry's bed; maybe it had been a strange waking hallucination from having eaten that fourth pork-chop at tea last week.
But why hadn't Harry come back to the room on Friday? Where had he spent the night?
Ron finally worked up the nerve to ask Harry about it once they were both in the dorm that night and the others were asleep. (Hermione didn't need to know about this just yet, it being a guy thing, and all, and he could always tell her about it later.)
"Harry, you know Friday, yeah?" Ron whispered, careful not to wake their sleeping roommates.
"What about it?"
"Well, you know how you weren't here…”
"I was here," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"You weren't here when I fell asleep," Ron clarified. He didn't admit to staying awake until two in the morning waiting for Harry to return; that might sound too…weird.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. I was up late talking to Neville after I got back from flying. I zonked out in the common room." Harry turned over, his back to Ron. "See you in the morning." The comment and his body language made it clear the conversation was over.
Ron ruminated on Harry's explanation. He was sure he had seen Neville come to bed — later than usual, it was true — but definitely before Ron fell asleep. Why wouldn't Harry have come up to bed with him?
He’s lying. To me! His best mate! And Ron was none the wiser for asking him about it. If anything, now Harry knew Ron was on to him. And he'd just passed it off as though nothing odd was going on. Ron frowned. There went any chance of a heart-to-heart between two comrades, Ron thought sourly. He'd just have to keep up the surveillance and detective work.
The next day Ron sat in Transfigurations, more curious than ever and just as frustrated. He wanted to concentrate on the lecture, but Harry's sex-life seemed far more interesting a topic than whatever McGonagall was lecturing them on.
“Now we will practice something I guarantee you will see on your Transfiguration NEWTS,” Professor McGonagall said. Everyone sat up a little straighter. “You learned the theory for this last year for your OWLS, but this year, we will be taking this technique to a more advanced level. I am talking about the transfiguration of strikingly different-sized objects. For instance, transfiguring a thimble into an elephant and back again.”
As she spoke, she pointed her wand at a small silver object on the floor. The students watched, impressed, as it grew and morphed into a very large, very confused-looking Indian elephant. The elephant flapped its ears, causing a gentle breeze, and looked around at them amiably.
"This is not the same as an animagus transforming into his or her animal form," she clarified as Hermione's hand shot up. "That is dependent only upon your inherent magic." Hermione put her hand down. Professor McGonagall continued, "This type of transfiguration, like all transfiguration, requires that the original object is held in its new form by the witch or wizard. With objects that are close in size, this requires very little effort and the person transfiguring the object can concentrate on other things. For objects as disparate in size as this," she motioned towards the elephant, who eyed her suspiciously, “it requires a good deal more concentration.”
Harry immediately thought of the transfigured sofa in the History of Magic classroom, and he resisted the urge to turn and look at Malfoy.
“Now, I would like several of you to try this,” McGonagall said. "It does not have to be an elephant. Just use your imagination. But remember: the grip of the wand is different than in like-to-like size transfigurations. There is no spell, the change is based solely on the grip and the action of the wand.” She demonstrated again by transfiguring the elephant back into a thimble. “Now, Miss Granger, would you care to go first?"
Hermione rose and stood in front of the class, regarding the thimble where it sat on the floor. Concentrating fiercely, she turned her wrist and hand in an identical fashion to that displayed by Professor McGonagall, flicked her wand carefully, and the thimble was transfigured into a grand piano.
“Well done, Miss Granger.”
Hermione changed the piano back into a thimble, smiled in a self-satisfied way, and took her seat.
"Mr Finch-Fletchley?" Justin stood and approached the front of the class. After a long moment and a couple of false starts, he transfigured the thimble into a large mantelpiece carriage clock. He looked at McGonagall. "Almost, Mr Finch-Fletchley, but think bigger. Adjust your grip thusly." She transfigured the thimble back again, rearranged his hold on the wand, and stood back from the line of fire.
Justin tried again. This time the thimble transfigured into what looked like the actual life-sized face of Big Ben. The front and ceiling of the classroom magically pushed itself outward to accommodate it. "Ah! Very good, Mr Finch-Fletchley!" Professor McGonagall said approvingly. Justin transfigured the clock-face back into a thimble and sat down to a smattering of applause.
McGonagall beckoned towards the back of the room. "Mr Malfoy next.”
Malfoy walked to the front of the class. He carefully considered the thimble, carefully aligned his fingers on his wand, and composed himself. “Good, Mr Malfoy. Everyone, please observe that this is the correct grip with which to hold your wand.”
Malfoy raised his hand to perform the spell.
“BLOODY HELL!” Ron exclaimed.
“Mr Weasley, do you have something to contribute to the lesson?” Professor McGonagall inquired. The entire class turned to look at Ron but Ron was staring wide-eyed at Malfoy.
Malfoy lowered his wand and narrowed his eyes at Ron. “Finished making a fool of yourself, Weasel?”
Ron gaped at him, speechless. He turned his head and stared at Harry. “I don’t believe it!”
Harry’s expression made it clear he was wondering why Ron was gazing so intently at him. Everyone else in the class seemed to be wondering the same thing.
Professor McGonagall raised her voice. “Mr Weasley, if you’re quite finished, I would like to get on with the class.”
Ron snapped his head back to the front. He looked past Professor McGonagall without seeing her, his attention fixed on Malfoy’s wand and the hand that held it. “Yeah, yeah, okay…” he muttered, on the verge of hyperventilating.
Hermione glared at him but he ignored her.
Ron suddenly remembered something. He turned around again and caught Neville’s eye. “You knew, didn’t you?” Ron hissed at him.
Neville studiously ignored him, but his face went red.
Professor McGonagall rapped sharply on her desk. “Mr Weasley! Do I need to take points away from my own House? I expect better from you.”
Hermione elbowed Ron hard in the ribs. “Be quiet, Ron,” she whispered.
By this time, Malfoy had transfigured the thimble back to its original state and returned to his seat. Ron didn't even see what he'd changed it into, his attention had been too focused on Harry and Neville.
“I expect you all to be practicing this skill for the next class, as I will call on you for demonstrations and will award points for the most creative use of the spell.” With that, she dismissed the class.
Ron shot out of his chair, so rattled he left behind his books and his wand. Hermione sighed and gathered them up, watching as Ron rushed to Harry’s seat, pulled him from his chair and yanked him towards the door of the classroom, pushing aside anyone in his path. Hermione gathered up Harry’s things as well, shaking her head at their odd behaviour.
Ron frogmarched Harry down the corridor and around the nearest corner before finally letting go of his arm. Ron’s face was bright red and his chest was heaving.
“Ron, what the hell —?” Harry said, but got no further.
“Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, please. 'Cause if you are, I’m going to throw up and then I’m going to have to kill you!” Ron’s voice rose in tenor and volume as he spoke.
Harry’s stomach threatened to drop to the floor. How did he find out? I made sure I did the spell right!! Merlin, this is bad… He tried to play dumb, on the outside chance Ron was talking about something else. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“I…you and…you two are…oh, Merlin, I can’t even say it!” Ron motioned wildly in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, sputtering incoherently. “You…the ferret…you’re…”
“What makes you think that we’re doing anything?” Harry asked, stalling, trying to look Ron in the eye and failing.
“Because I saw you. Or him. Or both of you. Last week.”
“You saw us?” Harry's face flushed. Oh, this is bad, all right… “Where?”
“In your bed!” Ron shouted. “The curtains weren’t closed properly and I saw your hands. His hands. Your hand and his…ohmygodthisistoodisgustingforwords.”
Harry decided to go on the offensive. “Why were you looking into my bed?”
“Because I thought you were having a nightmare! All I could see were your fists clenched in your sheets and I thought you were in pain or something. I was bloody well trying to HELP you!!” He stood there panting for a moment, then his eyes widened as he had a further revelation. “Oh, shit! The moaning I heard the night before that! Ohmygod! That was the two of you!”
Harry could almost see the wheels turning in Ron’s head. Or perhaps “locking up” would be the more appropriate phrase. “Er…”
“Bloody hell! I thought I knew you! I — I thought —” He couldn’t finish and turned away.
Harry reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “You do know, me, Ron.”
“Let me go,” Ron said angrily.
Harry let go of his robes and Ron began walking away.
“Ron—” Harry began, but it was too late.
"Granger knows," Malfoy said as they sat outside in the courtyard after dinner under Harry's invisibility cloak, watching a few other students taking advantage of the chilly but mellow early evening light.
They had done this a couple times before. Malfoy had suggested it a few weeks ago and Harry had to admit that it gave him a secret thrill. They'd tell their respective friends that they had to miss dinner to study or practice Quidditch, and then come out here while everyone was inside eating. They would sit, invisible, sometimes with a hand on each other's knee, pretending it meant nothing, surrounded by their classmates, who had no idea the two boys were in their midst.
"What?" Harry wasn’t listening. He was looking at Seamus watching-but-trying-not-to-look-like-he-was-watching Blaise Zabini, as the Slytherin flirted with Pansy. "Who knows?"
"Granger," Malfoy said, following Harry's gaze. "Blaise won't get anywhere. Pansy thinks I'm going to marry her."
"What?" Harry said again and turned to stare at Malfoy.
"Pansy. She thinks I'm going to marry her." Pansy let out a high-pitched giggle and patted Zabini on the arm.
"No, no, no. I mean the bit about Hermione knowing about us." Harry realised he was speaking a little too loudly and toned it down. "Has she said something to you?"
"Actually, I told her. I wanted to make sure Weasley wouldn't kill me." Malfoy snorted as Zabini leaned in and whispered something in Pansy's ear.
"Oh?" Harry said. “How did you manage that, then?”
“I explained to her I didn’t want that boyfriend of hers to hex me into oblivion, because you know he’ll think this was all my idea and that I was forcing you to have sex with me or something—”
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Harry assured him. I think he pretty much blames me, Harry finished in his head.
“Whatever, Potter. I didn’t tell her outright, but I might as well have as it took her ages to put two and two together. She asked if I were doing something to you and I said I was — in a manner of speaking. But nothing you weren’t doing to me.”
Harry laughed and the cloak shook around them. He straightened it, making sure no part of them was visible.
“She finally worked it out when I gave her so many hints she couldn’t possibly not understand. And I thought she was bright! Anyway, she couldn’t believe it; she thought we were arguing over Quidditch but couldn’t understand Ron’s reaction.”
“Yes, that was some outburst,” Harry said in agreement. “What happened when you told her?”
“She turned into a complete girl. She plastered a stupid smile on her face and said that we made an adorable couple. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“At least she didn’t punch you in the face,” Harry said, and kissed him on the cheek.
Malfoy moved his head back and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “Ugh, Potter, please.” But he smirked as he said it.
“Is she going to talk to Ron?” Harry asked, ignoring Malfoy’s false disgust.
“I think I’ve convinced her to try and calm the Weasel down, but how she’s going to do that is beyond me.” Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it's not my problem. He's your friend."
Harry blinked a few times, digesting the new information. It had all seemed so simple. Now, suddenly, it had become very, very complicated. "I don't know how I'm going to face him."
"Do you think he's told anyone?"
Malfoy suddenly sounded worried. But over what? Yes, having their relationship exposed would be completely unthinkable. They hadn't really considered it possible until now. Oh, they'd taken the odd step or two so as not be obvious, but they hadn't been as careful as maybe they should have been. Often they didn't wait until a door was shut firmly behind them, or forgot to utter a silencing spell as accurately as they should have. Harry realised they’d been living on borrowed time, fooling themselves into thinking it could go on indefinitely.
And he also realised he didn't have nearly as much to lose if their…relationship were to be discovered. Malfoy, on the other hand... Then again, half the time Harry never knew what Malfoy was thinking. Often he'd thought that he'd learned to read the Slytherin only to find himself completely wrong in his assumptions.
"Potter?" Malfoy’s voice and a well-placed elbow brought Harry back to the question at hand.
"I've no idea. I guess I'll find out later." He put his hand over Malfoy’s. Malfoy didn't respond, but he didn’t move his hand out from under Harry's. "I suppose we're safe. I don't think anyone else knows, and I can't see Ron convincing anyone of what he knows, can you?"
"I guess it is a little bit…" Malfoy said quietly and then trailed off.
"Far-fetched?" Harry suggested, smiling a little. "C'mon, Malfoy, would you believe this — " he held up their hands "— if you weren't in the middle of it?"
"I guess not; I'd be sitting over there flirting with Pansy, instead." As he spoke he saw Zabini scoot away from Pansy and look up past Harry and Malfoy who were still hidden under the cloak. The two boys looked over their shoulders to see Professor Dumbledore strolling into the courtyard, stopping to idly chat with the students scattered around the place.
Harry squeezed Malfoy’s hand and whispered, "I don’t think Ron will say anything to anyone but me; he'd be too embarrassed. And we can trust Hermione to keep our secret. As long as we remember the Silencing and Privacy charms, I’m sure we're safe enough from anyone else finding out."
They watched Dumbledore's robes flutter as he passed them. "Good evening, gentlemen," said the old wizard — to nothing at all.
The End
...for the moment.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-18 09:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-18 10:47 pm (UTC)Also, I remembered that I wrote school!smut once before (warning: it is the first fic I ever wrote, and it's a crossover with Jasper Fforde's Jurisfiction!verse). There's an improbable amount of shagging (no really, three sex scenes in 7000 words). Anyway, you might like it :)
Untoward Behaviour
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-18 11:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-18 11:57 pm (UTC)There is a lot of sex in this fic! And that by no means is a bad thing :P I loved how you managed to charactise and develop them through all the shagging :D
The bits with Ron were brilliant, and Neville as well. Ron reacted perfectly, and I loved him looking throught all the girls hands to see who it was! hehe.
I definitely want to see more of this!! :D
♥
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-19 12:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-19 02:27 am (UTC)Y&R
Date: 2010-01-19 10:55 am (UTC)Y&R
Date: 2010-01-19 10:57 am (UTC)Most of this was the second fic I wrote! EEEK. Glad you liked it, though :)
*hugs*
Y&R
Date: 2010-01-19 10:58 am (UTC)Y&R
Date: 2010-01-19 11:00 am (UTC)Y&R
Date: 2010-01-19 11:04 am (UTC)I loved writing Ron and Neville in this and if I can ever finish this, they'll be featuring a lot! (May be soliciting ideas from you...)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-19 01:48 pm (UTC)Their lack of control once they get their hands on each other was hilariously hot.
Detective!Ron was too funny for words.
Like others, I enjoyed the idea of the RoR rota. After the events of 5th year, there's no way that room is conveniently empty all the time.
Loved Dumbledore's parting line.
*friends*
Re: Y&R
Date: 2010-01-19 03:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-20 12:02 am (UTC)SEE!! I TOLD YOU!!
A fabulous piece of school smut ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-20 07:16 pm (UTC)And yes, once the DA know about the RoR, of course they'd be using it for more than training.
There'll be more of Dumbledore in the next bit, I'm sure...
*friends back*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-20 07:17 pm (UTC)Gonna flog this issue too, I think:)
KINDDING! *ducks*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-20 07:18 pm (UTC)Hope you enjoyed it!
Re: Y&R
Date: 2010-01-20 07:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-20 11:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-21 01:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-21 08:17 am (UTC)Can't wait for you to write the follow-up to this, it's going to be amazing I just know it.
Sarah x
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-21 04:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-21 04:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-21 04:46 pm (UTC)Funnily enough, I had an entire 3-page scene where Draco and Hermione are having a conversation not long after the Transfig scene that was REALLY, REALLY good and the way he tells her is long and drawn out and incredibly cryptic until she has this "ooohhh" moment. She basically demands to know what's going on and afraid to be hexed by Ron, Draco finally tells her.
But my beta (rightly, dammit), told me to keep the POVs to Harry and Ron, so I kind of had to infer most of it, which made for a suckier (if more literary) scene :(
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-22 12:44 am (UTC)*winks*