Draco lay Lying writhing in his luxurious four-poster as he endured his self-inflicted, frustration-induced pain

Draco lay Lying writhing in his luxurious four-poster as he endured his self-inflicted, frustration-induced pain., He Draco could think only one thing: Don't Be Stupid.

Don't be stupid – what would your father think?

Don't be stupid – no one that friggin' fabulous could ever feel for you.

Don't be stupid – you don't even swing that way.

But soon after, a nagging voice would whisper the deceivingly hopeful words: But What If?

What if – he actually could feel for you?

What if – your father really is a human being and could maybe love you anyway?

And what if – you got over your stupid pride and started accepting who you are?

Such conflicting thoughts made Draco force the blade deeper into his otherwise untarnished flesh. Lines of beautiful deep red glistened all over his back, chest, and pelvic region, filling him with a bitter pleasure.

He could remember a time when maiming his smooth perfect skin in an attempt to forget pain would seem a perfectly absurd concept. But that was so long ago. Prolonged and sincere periods of happiness were left behind in that far away time. The time before he had found himself underneath the infamous Harry Potter, panting, screaming, and barely thinking as he arched and writhed in the purest state of euphoria he had ever experienced.

It was midway through sixth year that Harry found himself unhappy. A strange and uncomfortable state of mind had settled itself upon him, making him think of certain people in certain ways that he certainly wouldn't have expected of himself.

Talking to the other guys in his dorm, he'd found out that it was perfectly normal for teenage boys to think about other teenage boys in ways that were normally reserved for teenage girls. This discovery put his mind at ease, and he brushed his feelings off, blaming raging teenage hormones. Until, that is, he realised that it wasn't the occasional out of the ordinary fantasy that we were talking about here.

No, this was a full-blown physical and emotional attraction to another boy. Two other boys, in fact.

His heart skipping a beat (and not in the good way. More in the way that your great Aunt Mildred's heart skipped a beat just before she kicked the bucket last summer. The unpleasant kind of beat-skipping. Yeah.) at this new revelation, Harry, being the brave Gryffindor that he was, decided to talk to Ron about it.

A lethal combination of Ron's stupidity and limited emotional range led to a less that reassuring conversation:

Late one night, Ron and Harry had been desperately trying to finish their overdue homework when Harry finally worked up the courage to bring it up.

"Ron?"

"Mm?" was the reply.

"You know how we were talking the other day in the dorm? About how we sometimes have daydreams or whatever about other guys instead of girls?" Harry asked, his heart thumping.

"Yeah what about it?" came the somewhat distracted reply.

Trying to remain nonchalant, Harry said, "Nothing really, I was just wondering if you or any of the other guys has ever thought that they might've…well…that they might've started to…" the nonchalant front was rapidly losing the battle. "…you know…started to actually like another guy…"

Ron had taken it the wrong way, "Are you kidding? That's ridiculous! Do you really thing that if one of us did bat for the other team we'd be mental enough to tell the other guys in our dorm? We'd get booted out for sure!" he said laughing.

He had thought Harry was joking or being purely hypothetical. So Harry forced a smile and said, "Yeah, pretty stupid. Just something that crossed my mind…"

Ron shook his slowly, amused, before stretching, yawning, and bidding Harry goodnight.

Harry sat alone in the common room for an hour and a half contemplating his situation. His previous conversation with Ron had not gone at all in the direction he'd planned, confirming his fear that if he were to tell Ron his true feelings about two certain someone's, he'd be ridiculed and shunned by his best friend.

The thought sent a shiver down Harry's spine and made his stomach feel as though it were made of concrete. Not an altogether pleasant end to the day.

Eventually deciding that that was enough thinking depressing thoughts for one day, Harry sent him self off to bed to endure yet another set of dreams plagued by his desires for his best friend and worst enemy: The very two people he'd never have a chance with.

Across the other side of the castle, a conversation of similar substance had taken place that very same evening in the Slytherin common room.

Draco and Pansy were relaxing alone on a soft leather couch, Pansy's head on Draco's lap, when Draco had suddenly asked, "Hey Pansy, d'you reckon Potter's gay?"

"No doubt about it," came the confident reply. "Why do you ask?"

"Just something I was thinking about. I mean, it wouldn't be surprising if he was. Such a fucking emotional sook. Crying all the time over his poor dead godfather." Draco answered his insults oh-so skilfully camouflaging his genuine interest in Harry's sexuality.

"Right as ever Draco," Pansy said, smiling. "He and Weasley probably do it every other day. Well I'm off to bed," she yawned, sitting up and kissing Draco on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Draco sighed. Now he didn't know what to believe. He knew perfectly well that Pansy was just bagging out the Boy-Who-Really-Should've-Died-By-Now, but he couldn't help wondering if they (Pansy and himself) were both right anyway.

The thought was rather bitter-sweet as Pansy's words came back to him. Yes, of course. It would be annoyingly logical for Potter to be shagging Weasley if they were both poofs. Naturally two idiot Gryffindors would be draw n to each other's outstanding bravery (pfft), and intelligence rivalled by none (please, a naked mole rat has more intelligence in its big toe than the two of them put together).

Oh Christ Draco, get a grip,he berated himself. Stop hiding behind your stupid sarcasm all the damn time.

He ran his hands through his hair and over his face, agitated. But it would make sense if they were secretly together, thought Draco. Or if not Weasley, surely another Gryffindor.

Draco believed it totally without hope to wish that Harry Potter could ever fancy him. He'd never even go for a Slytherin, let alone the one Slytherin who takes every opportunity to prove he was better than him.

And with that encouraging thought, Draco went to bed, dreading the next morning: Double potions. First period. With Gryffindor.

Great…

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