Summary: Strange things are happening around Hogwarts. Harry and Draco both think they're hearing strange voices and rumors of a strange new power are floating around. To make matters worse, the boys start receiving mysterious notes and it seems like someone is stalking them. Also, Harry is struggling to come out to his friends, but what happens when Draco begins questioning his own sexuality? And what do the pair have in common? Secrets, lies, and romance abound. HPDM. AU.
The first few chapters are going to be slightly humorous, but the plot and theme are going to get a lot more serious (and a little bit darker) as the story progresses. Just thought I'd let you all know.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter. If I did, Draco would be mine. All mine. (grins)
A/N: I went through the first four chapters and cleaned up some typos and switched some stuff around to better suit the story. (29 October 2008)
Anyway, on with the story...
Chapter One: Harry's Confusion
Gods, I hate him.
The Boy-Who-Lived absent-mindedly pushed his cold eggs around on his plate. He hadn't eaten anything this morning; his appetite seemed to have vanished upon seeing a certain pale blond boy making obscene hand gestures toward him in the halls.
A full week of the new term hadn't even passed and the stupid git was already starting trouble. He was thinking about none other than the infamous Draco Malfoy, who was currently trying to catch his attention, his fellow Slytherins snickering all the while.
Harry glared and stabbed at a sausage angrily with his fork, muttering a few choice four-letter words. He hated it when Malfoy did this sort of thing. Does he always have to be so bloody superior? Why can't he just ever let me be? Stupid git.
"Dun pay any tenshion to 'im, 'Arry," Ron said thickly through a mouthful of porridge, spewing his neighbors with gooey bits of it in the process. He swallowed, much to everyone's relief, and continued. "That was four years ago. You'd think old ferret-face could come up with something better than that. He says worse things to you on a daily basis, so it's not really that bad.
"Besides, it's not like it was completely your fault. I mean, even though everyone else didn't faint..." He trailed off as he tried to muffle a grunted "Oomph!" as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.
She glared at Ron and huffed, sending Harry an apologetic look. Harry shrugged and tried to lose himself in his thoughts once again, but someone nearby was muttering about first-year mudbloods rather loudly.
Go be rude somewhere else. Couldn't they be quieter? He was trying to think. Harry leaned forward on his elbow and rested his chin on his hand. He let his eyes wander until they rested on the Slytherin table, where Pansy Parkinson was trying to rub Malfoy's arm.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he focused on the angry form of Malfoy, who was viciously spearing a sausage on his golden fork.
Arrogant prick. I hope he chokes on that sausage he's eating. Or maybe his pumpkin juice. It doesn't matter. It's not like anyone would want to save his pompous arse anyway. Except maybe Parkinson...but that's not really saying much, is it?
Harry stifled a laugh as he imagined Pansy Parkinson screeching and running around like a decapitated chicken while Malfoy choked to death. His eyes darkened. Not really a death fit for a precious Malfoy, I suppose, but then again, what is? Serves him right, the overconfident prat.
Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that said Malfoy actually was choking on his pumpkin juice in an undignified manner and Pansy looked distraught. The blond sputtered and gasped, clutching at the air wildly.
Shock rippled through his body and then was replaced by a smirk worthy of the Prince of Slytherin himself. After all, it was only a coincidence. Malfoy actually choking during breakfast was simply a welcome surprise.
"…think he's gay. Really, 'Mione, there's no other explanation. I mean, look at him! It's obvious. Just look at how he acts if you don't believe me. Look at his—" Now it was Harry's turn to choke on his pumpkin juice as he was jerked unceremoniously from his thoughts.
"Harry, mate, are you all right?" Ron asked, thumping Harry on the back a little too enthusiastically to be entirely sincere. "You've seemed kind of out of it since Malfoy said those things to you the other day. You really shouldn't let the bastard get to you like that."
"Like you're one to talk," Harry muttered bitterly.
It was partly true, though- he had been really distracted lately, but he couldn't exactly figure out why. Hermione snorted with derision at the redhead's display of compassion; this was clearly not Ron's thing.
"Yeah...just...er...fine. I'm fine," Harry managed weakly. Inside, he panicked—they couldn't know, could they? He didn't think he was being that obvious.
What should he say? What could he say that wasn't an outright lie? His mind raced as he frantically struggled to come up with a plausible response. He didn't want to come out of the broom closet yet, or so they say in the wizarding world. He wanted to, but what would everyone say if they found out the Golden Boy was gay? He was tired of hiding, but he didn't necessarily want to be in the spotlight again. He just wasn't ready; he kept telling himself he would come out as soon as he was done waiting for... for what?
Now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't come up with a good enough reason as to why he should continue to keep his closest friends in the dark.
What's the worst that could happen? Rejection? No, he could deal with that; he's put up with that throughout his whole life. He wasn't really worried about Hermione's reaction- he was sure she'd understand.
But Ron... Ron was a different matter. Harry just hoped that the infamous Weasley temper wouldn't burst out full-force. The entire school would know that Harry Potter fancied boys by the end of breakfast if that happened.
Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, hoping that Ron wouldn't cause an explosive scene and reveal his deepest secret in one fell swoop. He might as well tell them now, while everyone else was caught up in their own affairs.
But what should I say? Sorry for not telling you earlier, guys, but I'm GAY? Oh, and by the way, I fancy MALFOY? Ha, fat chance. I'd have better luck trying to teach Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts how to tap-dance, assuming any are still alive. I better just get this over with, then.
"Ron... 'Mione... I have something to tell you. I-"
"Ha, Hermione! I told you he was gay! I told you!" Ron grinned triumphantly and beamed at Harry, who looked horrified. "I knew you'd say so, Harry! Thanks, mate, you just won me a bet. Now pay up, 'Mione. Two against one."
"Ronald Weasley, how many times MUST I tell you that it DOESN'T MATTER!" Hermione spat. She rarely got this angry, but she hated it when people as ignorant as Ron tried to judge people like this. "How do you even know if he is or not? You don't! Isn't that right, Harry?"
Harry barely looked up as he was addressed by the brunette and could only stutter unintelligibly, his embarrassment evident.
He was mortified. This was not how he had envisioned coming out. He hadn't exactly planned on being on being the object of a bet, but it could be worse. Hermione was sticking up for him and Ron apparently wasn't angry.
Hermione turned to Ron again, disgust plainly written on her face. "You only want an excuse to hate him. Honestly, Ronald, this is pathetic. I never even agreed to that despicable bet in the first place. Now if you'll kindly sit down," she motioned to his empty chair (Ron hadn't noticed he had jumped out of his seat with excitement at having his suspicions confirmed), "we could have a halfway decent breakfast... or what's left of it."
"You're just a sore loser. Harry, you agree with me, right? Of course you do, mate. Malfoy has to be gay, there's no other way around it." Apparently satisfied, Ron sat down rather sheepishly as people looked around for the source of the commotion.
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave a small gasp of surprise as Harry suddenly fell off his chair and landed on his back with a dull thud.
"M-M-Malfoy?" Harry sputtered. Malfoy? MALFOY?! Merlin, I thought they were talking about ME. But now that I think about it, I wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy was gay. Actually, I think I'd be more surprised if he wasn't.
He took Hermione's proffered hand and helped himself up.
I most certainly am not gay! Why would any MALE fancy me?...Then again, why wouldn't they? I guess I am that sexy, so I'm not really that surprised.
"What?" he asked, confused. He wasn't hearing things, was he?
Harry figured it was probably just some random person talking. He thought it sounded suspiciously like something Malfoy would say, but Malfoy had already left breakfast so that was pretty much impossible.
Harry rubbed his forehead in annoyance; he remembered only too clearly the last time he thought he was hearing voices...
"Harry, you seem ill. I think you should lie down. Is it your... you know... your scar?" Hermione whispered, a bit too loudly for Harry's tastes. The raven-haired boy shook his head and Hermione visibly relaxed. "Well, do you want me to take you to the infirmary? Madame Pomfrey has this new potion..."
"No, I'm fine. Thanks, 'Mione." Harry took his seat and Ron nudged him, gesturing to the hundreds of eyes that were watching him with bemused expressions. Harry didn't need people calling him "scar face" or asking him if he was having menstrual problems again (he'd never forgive Fred and George for that one).
After all, he thought bitterly, I AM the supposed savior of the wizarding world. Maybe I should get some beauty rest like I'm SUPPOSED to so people can't say, "Oh look, it's poor Harry Potter and his poor scar...let's just tell him what else he's SUPPOSED to do because he's too TROUBLED to figure it out himself." Well whatever. At this rate, ignorant people are more likely to give me a headache than dear old Voldy.
He hated it when people tried to control him, to tell him what he was supposed to do and when. Harry was tired of it. Did they think he didn't have a brain?
Everyone probably thinks I'm insane now. Well, even more insane, I suppose. But I don't care anymore. They can think whatever the bloody hell they want to. Malfoy, the stupid git. This is all his fault.
His mood ruined, Harry stood up and stalked out of the Great Hall, slamming the door as he exited.
A/N: I decided to change things up and split the old first two chapters into four new ones. The story format was just bothering me and it was too much to take in at a time. So, this new first chapter will be from Harry's perspective and the second will be Draco's perspective of the same morning, but in the new third and fourth chapters things will go back to normal. Sorry for the confusion, and don't forget to review!
And thanks to my friend draculasbride2008 for "gently encouraging" (cough) threatening (cough) me to actually continue writing this fic. I had an idea and without her breathing down my neck at school it still probably would have been a few scribbled sentences in a notebook.