'Unlikely Beginnings'
by: Christine and Carrie
Harry Potter had a lot of things on his mind as he reached the front grounds of Hogwarts. As he strolled aimlessly through the cool November air, he wished he could let the breeze blow away the things he counted off in his mind: The ever present threat of Voldemort, Cedric Diggory's death, his on-again, off-again relationship with Cho Chang, life without his godfather, Sirius Black, and whether or not he was prepared to take his NEWTs this year. His life was full and chaotic for a seventeen-year-old boy.
He knew he was The Boy Who Lived, and with that came the great responsibility he held proudly, but sometimes, mainly late at night when he couldn't sleep, he wished he was plain old Harry Potter. Just plain old Harry: Magnificent Quidditch Seeker, piss poor student at potions, and best mate to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Of course, if he had been plain, ordinary Harry, he wouldn't have had so much on his mind. No, no. He would have heard the non-discreet footfalls behind him, stepping closer and closer. And, if he had heard that, he wouldn't have, as easily, been pushed from behind. Harry squinted, his eyes partially shut in a cringe as he held his hands out to ease his fall, not really succeeding with that, and thudding painfully onto the ground. With a groan of mild discomfort, he turned over only to see the smirking face of his major annoyance, Draco Malfoy.
Harry opened his eyes and blinked to clear his head and make the image of the blond in front of him appear less blurry, or maybe he should just wipe that fingerprint off the lens of his glasses. He tried not to squint past the smudge as he looked up into Draco's eyes. "Malfoy? Why the bloody hell did you do that?" Harry didn't exactly wait for an answer before he set about getting himself back on his feet, brushing bits of grass off his robes in the process.
"I was bored," Draco stated, as if Harry had asked the stupidest question. "Do I ever need an excuse to torment you, Potter?" Draco gave an almost happy half-smile, which came off more as cruel amusement, as per usual.
Harry rolled his eyes at the slightly wistful tone in the other boy's voice. "Whatever, Malfoy." Harry gave one last brush of his hand to his robes and moved to brush by Draco on his way back to the school. "Why don't you do the world a favor and go rot somewhere?"
Draco frowned and stepped after Harry, reaching a hand to cup over the dark-haired boy's shoulder and spun him back around. "Is that the best you could come up with?" Draco challenged, stepping into Harry's personal space. "I do believe you're losing your touch," Draco said, smirk growing wider by the second at the pissed off look on Harry's face.
"Piss off, you wanker," Harry growled before turning on his heel to head on his way again. He didn't get very far before he found himself flat on his face again with an angry Draco sitting on him, holding him down. "Guh! Get off, you arse!" Harry yelled as he tried valiantly to dislodge Draco's hands from his head, which were currently smacking it into the ground, repeatedly. With his attempts to throw the other boy off, Draco was becoming more aggressive and exerting more strength into the process. Annoyed with his victim's struggles, Draco got up quickly, only to flip Harry onto his back.
Draco grabbed the collar of Harry's robes for more leverage than his hair gave, and continued banging the seemingly offending head into the ground. Glasses askew and barely hanging onto his face, Harry tried to raise his arms up to push Draco off his person, but to no avail. The only thing it provided him with was sore shoulder joints. Harry wiggled his arms forward, instead of back, trying to reach Draco's head.
He succeeded in pushing himself onto his elbows, Draco seemingly not to have foreseen this potential move on Harry's side, and was temporarily at a loss at what to do. Harry reached an arm over his head to Draco's and grasped silky, silver blond hair between his fingers. Giving out a resounding yelp at the rough tug Harry divvied out, Draco flipped Harry back onto his chest and stuck his knee into the middle of Harry's back, pushing him back flat to the ground. Harry groaned in pain when his shoulder joint was bent back awkwardly as his hand was pulled behind his back, Draco holding it down and resuming the initial torment.
The blond had a good four inches and ten pounds on him, and not knowing what else he could do, Harry squirmed his wrist free from under Draco's knee and moved it to the lower regions of Draco's body, grabbing at his groin. All other movement was ceased on Draco's part as his eyes went wide in shock at the new and quite unexpected contact.
Harry was about to yank viciously on the cloth covered flesh in his hands, when a moan of pleasured pain was elicited from above him. His eyes rivaled that of the most terrified house-elf's, to beat even Draco's at the moment, when he felt the item in his hands stiffen. With a startled cry, he tore his hands away and tried to remove himself from his now a lot more awkward position underneath Draco.
When the warm hand over his privates moved away from his groin, Draco opened eyes he apparently hadn't realized were closed, in time to register that Harry was trying to scramble out from under him. He dropped down on his hands again as he crawled back over top of Harry, pinning him down. "Where do you think you're going?" Draco leaned down, breathing the question against the skin behind Harry's ear. Harry had never heard Draco sound this way, though he couldn't say it was really a surprise. "You think you can get me hard and not finish what you started? I think not."
Harry didn't really want to turn to face Draco, but he'd have a better chance of crab-walking it away from the unwelcome shelter he'd attracted than he would of crawling on his belly like a snake. Draco allowed the movement of Harry rolling underneath him, becoming perhaps a bit optimistic of the thigh that brushed over his erection as Harry shifted.
"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Harry pushed his eyebrows together in confusion as he looked up at the other boy. "I don't know what planet you're living on, but my intention was definitely not to arouse you," he said as he continued trying to disentangle his robes from Draco's and to relieve himself of Draco's weight pushing down on him.
Draco pursed his lips in thoughtful anger before reaching a conclusion in his mind, as he reached for his wand up his sleeve. "Teasing me, are you, Potter? Let's see what you think of this," he said before he began to mumble a charm that began to pin Harry's wrists above his head on the ground. Harry let out a startled cry as his wrists moved of Draco's accord, and he tried desperately to loosen the invisible cords that held them.
Finding himself stuck, he began to toss his body side to side in earnest to get the slightly larger boy off him. Draco groaned once more in surprised pleasure as Harry continued his thrashes, unwitting of their effect on the blond. Uttering another charm under his breath, Draco divested them of their trousers and pants, leaving them both naked from the waist down. Harry gasped in alarm at suddenly finding himself flapping in the wind.
"Draco," Harry began, almost breathless still as he looked up at the predatory face of the Slytherin above him, "someone is going to see you doing this!" After their Care of Magical Creatures class was over, Harry went with Hagrid to his house, but was shooed back for lunch, and knew Hagrid wouldn't be out for at least an hour and a half. Everyone else was inside having lunch.
Draco paid no heed to Harry's concern or worry, but he did comment as he took advantage of the naked limbs in front of him. "Oh, heaven forbid Crabbe and Goyle miss lunch, Potter," Draco tutted. "They won't be out looking for me for quite some time, got to fill their mouths with something if there's no intelligent speech in there, you know."
As he finished saying that, he lifted Harry's thighs up to expose him to the cool breeze and leaned down until his face was only centimeters away from his arse. Draco savored the shocked stillness of Harry's body when the dark-haired boy realized what was actually happening, and ran his tongue experimentally up the cleft. "Oh, god!" Harry shouted. "Malfoy, what the...," he paused as he panted and was rewarded with another teasing lick, "fuck... are you doing?" Harry gasped out, and continued to pant heavily each time the blond teased him, and found himself unconsciously pushing back towards Draco's efforts.
Oh, yes, Harry thought, and his thoughts paused a moment before they could form any further than that. I've provoked this, haven't I? Yes, I'll just attempt to buck him off with my pelvis. That seems a right hetero thing to do. Harry would have rolled his eyes at himself if they weren't already shut against the onslaught of Draco's assault.
Draco stopped then, licking his lips in the process, only to add his right index finger. "I'm preparing you, or haven't you noticed?" Draco replied belatedly, turning his head to the left, and saying to himself, "Bollocks, I must be losing my touch if he's still coherent enough to ask bloody questions." He muttered to himself before removing his finger to once again lick and suck at him.
Harry continued to moan and gasp. He was almost on the brink of orgasm when Draco pulled away completely, making Harry's eyes snap open and his brain almost come back to reality at the sudden loss. Making a slight face, Draco spat a glob of spit into his hand and bringing it to his erection, slathered it all over himself as ceremoniously as he could. Using his dry hand to grab one of Harry's sprawled legs, he pushed it up towards Harry's chest, the other following suit on its own. Draco's hands smoothed his arse, parting the other boy widely, and began to push forward.
Harry let out a tense grunt of pain as Draco leaned in. He wasn't particularly thrilled about losing his virginity where anyone out taking a stroll could spot them, and he definitely never pictured giving up his innocence to Malfoy, of all people. Harry unclenched his jaw once he felt Malfoy stop moving, and finish seating himself in Harry's body. The ache, Harry found, was beginning to fade, and become less painful as it had been a few moments ago, but it still felt like a dull ache nonetheless. He closed his eyes as his jaw slackened even more to let out a breath of air, trying to get some form of pleasure out of being used, when he felt Draco slowly start moving.
Draco grasped his bottom lip and pulled it inside his mouth, biting down on it to keep himself in control. He wasn't about to climax so quickly like an eager little virgin, and he didn't want to end this too soon. It had been a few weeks since he had last slept with anyone, and he wanted this to be good. Even though he didn't particularly like Potter, really, he didn't want to cause the other boy any harm. Fucking hard was one thing, but being brutal was quite another. No matter what people thought of him or his family, he was not the type to permanently injure someone. At least, not intentionally.
As Draco continued, his thoughts weren't completely focused on what he was doing. Still being careful not to hurt Harry, even by squishing him, Draco leaned down onto his elbows over top of Harry. He didn't want to mislead the other boy into thinking this was any type of romantic thing, but keeping to his no-harm motto, he felt inclined to make it good for Harry as well. It wasn't as if Harry was really struggling to get away at the moment, either. His thoughts began to break up as his physical reactions caught up with him, leaving him murmuring. He gasped out at first, feeling his warm breath bounce back at him from the side of Harry's neck, adding to the flush that was creeping up over the rest of his body, muttering indecipherable words about the feel of Potter around him.
Harry whimpered out something unintelligible, which pleased Draco, considering his earlier comment. Harry alternated those whimpers with low cries of pleasure, gasping or yelling out, "Oh, god," as Draco pressed forward. They continued this way for a good while until Draco pushed deep, warranting the loudest cry from Harry yet. Not wanting to give up that pleasure yet, Harry bore down on Draco, and held.
"That's it," Draco whispered down to him. "Do that again," he demanded, giving a teasing little lick along Harry's jaw line. Harry did as he was told, though not necessarily for Draco's benefit. A moment later, after twin shuddering moans from the both of them, Harry began struggling at his invisible bonds. Draco was planning on letting him pointlessly tug at the spell when he heard the most frustrated whimper from Harry. Understanding dawned on Draco as a slow smirk formed on his lips, though parted to gasp in air, he muttered the reversal charm. He watched, eyelids barely drawn open, as Harry spared barely a second to rub his wrists before a hand dove out of sight. As he followed the hand with his eyes, knuckles skimmed his chest, making a shiver run straight through him, in every part of his body, before he was promptly made aware of Harry's rigid state.
Draco looked back up to Harry's face just in time to see the undecided motor response to where his other hand would go. He stared at the hand that seemingly wanted to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him towards Harry for a kiss. Unsure of whether he wanted that or not, Draco made the effort to lift himself back onto his hands, looking down to watch Harry rapidly pull at himself.
Harry was quite studiously ignoring the grass rubbing against his lower back, and he managed to push it out of his mind completely when his hands were let loose. He wanted to almost hug Draco for the small mercy he'd allowed, but when he caught sight of those lips in that devilishly tempting smirk, his mind stalled. Suddenly, the aftermath of this excursion posed a thousand questions in his head. He was thankful, though, that subconsciously, his brain was still going along with the original plan, to finish himself off. Would Draco pretend it never happened? Would they be an 'item'? He doubted it. A kiss, though? How would Draco react to even that, at least while they were fucking? He'd never dream of walking up to his supposed enemy in the halls and laying a big smacking kiss on his lips. But what about right now?
The decision was taken away from him due to his delay in action, as Draco put more distance between them. He seemed to be making up for the gap, a silence and never admitted apology for no kiss, by heaving forward a bit harder. Draco knew what Harry was thinking of doing, and he had thought about it himself, as well, but he decided he didn't want to go there. This was just sex, after all. Admittedly, it had been unplanned, but it was still sex, either way. He had no desire to get 'close' to Harry, other than the instance laying before him.
His head lolled back a bit as he gasped, feeling his climax approaching. It seemed Potter was experiencing the same, as his hand sped up, pulling himself in desperation, bringing himself to the edge of his own release. Not wanting to peak before the boy beneath him, Draco shifted a knee, angling his hips a bit. He smiled to himself when a long, drawn out moan erupted from Harry's mouth. Wonderful thing, the prostate, Draco mused to himself as he continued striking it.
Draco wanted to finish this up quickly, as most students would be done with their lunch by now, and might wander outside. He wouldn't have necessarily been embarrassed by being caught, but with Potter? He didn't want rumors spreading. Harry let out another loud cry when his completion came, twitching and spasming all over his hands and shirt. After a couple more rocks, Draco climaxed due to Harry's clenches. A bit weak, Draco slumped down over Harry as they both caught their breaths.
Moments later, being not too comfortable laying with Potter, Draco carefully withdrew, sighing. He leaned back to sit on his haunches, looking down curiously at the other boy. Harry pushed himself onto his elbows, looking misleadingly relaxed and carelessly lounged due to the bliss of climax. With one last odd look, Draco stood up and reversed the charm he'd used to take their trousers off. Harry barely registered that only Draco's reappeared, that he'd have to do it himself for his own.
Draco smoothed his hands down his thighs to get rid of any wrinkles hiding there, paying no attention to the boy still laying on the ground, until he said, "Well, thanks for that. See you around, Potter." Draco turned and walked away, towards the castle, hoping he'd be in time to grab a bite of lunch before afternoon classes started.
Harry watched him incredulously, wondering if he was actually just going to leave. It wouldn't be unlike Malfoy to do that, he realized, but he couldn't make himself move. All he could think about was the smirk firmly etched on Malfoy's face before he turned, leaving Harry to wonder what the fuck just happened. Besides the obvious, at least; but Harry wasn't sure Draco would give him that much credit.
----
The next day, Harry made his way to Potions in a trance-like state. His thoughts had decided not to come along with him, still stuck on what had transpired the day before, with Draco. He knew it was almost impossible that they would come out being a couple, just because they had shagged, but he had the feeling he wouldn't simply be blown off, either. During breakfast that morning, he'd glanced across the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table, trying to catch Malfoy's eye. The other boy seemingly ignored him, and when he did spare a moment for his eyes to dart up, catching Harry's, he'd smirk and turn his attention back to his house mates.
Lost as he was in his mind's wonderings, he didn't notice what Ron had been saying. He turned his head when he felt a sharp prod to his shoulder. Harry simply stared back at Ron, who was giving him a funny look. "I'm sorry, what?"
Ron's look turned to a frown, but he repeated himself, nonetheless. "I said, do you reckon Snape'll pop a quiz on us?" Ron still looked like he wanted to ask what he was thinking of, but decided against it. He passed it off as fatigue, since he had heard Harry's fitful sleep the night before.
Harry blinked, mentally rearranging his thoughts to the present, and then let his shoulders give a loose shrug. "I wouldn't be too surprised, if he did," he replied, turning his attention to the hallway in front of him as a few students from Snape's last class filed out of the room. They looked rather harassed, and Harry hoped Snape wasn't in too bad of a snit.
Hermione and Ron shared a squeamish look with each other as they, too, caught the look on the other students' faces. When the doorway was clear, Harry walked through the threshold and into the room, leaving his two friends behind to exchange concerned looks with each other, both for the fact that Harry seemed rather dazed, and, of course, the horrors of a potential pop quiz.
They followed after their friend, selecting a seat on either side of Harry. Ron had decided to ask Harry if he was okay, as he set his books down on the table in front of him. He sat down and turned in his seat, ready to ask what was bothering him when Snape came bursting through the door as he normally did.
Once, Hermione said Snape did it to scare them all into thinking he was an arse, that she thought, deep down, he was really a nice guy. After waiting for the boys' laughter to die down, she vowed to never share her inner opinions on Snape again. As he swished past their table, she straightened in her chair as they all prepared to be scrutinized, er, taught.
"Alright," Snape began curtly. "As you've all most likely not been told--" he sent an unamused glance over to the Slytherin side of the room, "--there's going to be a quiz today." There was a collective sound, mostly forming along the lines of 'argh' as the Gryffindors followed Snape's eyes. The other side of the room seemed to let out a small chuckle, though a few did add to the 'argh'.
Ron glared daggers at the Slytherins, and thinking back to his earlier comment, wondered if he'd venture so far as to predict that Professor Trelawney would stop giving them ridiculous homework for the rest of the year.
"Remove your books; place them under your chairs. I want only your quills atop your desks." Snape picked up a stack of parchment from his own desk and started towards the students, passing out tests to each.
"I want to know if anything I've been teaching the last two weeks has sunk into those black holes you children call minds," Snape finished rather derisively, leveling another steady glare around the entire room.
There was another group effort to groan as students read what was on his or her test sheet. Ron leaned over until he could whisper to Harry, watching as Snape's back was to them, shuffling papers on his desk. "I swear Snape gets worse and worse each year."
Harry gave a little nod, once again struggling to keep his thoughts in the present. "I'd guess from a lack of a good shag; course, I can't blame anyone not wanting to touch the ugly git," Ron continued, sitting back. Harry was jerked out of his daze long enough to elicit a short snort of laughter in response to his friend's comment. He'd tried to hold it back, but, unfortunately for him, Snape had heard.
"Something you'd like to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Potter?" Snape had turned around where he was standing, and leaned back against his desk. Arms crossed, he slid his eyes over to Ron momentarily before settling them back on Harry, waiting for an answer.
Harry fidgeted under the unblinking scowl Snape had targeted him with. "Er," was all he could manage to get out. He really, particularly, did not want to tell Snape what had made him snicker.
Snape sniffed, making a disgusted face that seemed to look half pleased at the same time. "I thought not," he said, turning back to his desk. "Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class."
The displeased Gryffindors were a rather palpable force, and Harry felt them quite well as he lost them points for the umpteenth time. He was almost sure some of them were glaring at him out the corner of their eyes. The feeling faded after a moment, though, owing to the fact that many of them had lost points at one time or another due to Snape's unfortunate dislike for their whole lot.
Snape, meanwhile, smirked to himself at the goings on behind him. He straightened and turned back to face his class, a little clock in his hand he'd grabbed from his desk. "At my notice, you will have one hour, and only one hour, to complete your quizzes."
The class stared at him, waiting, and someone dared to clear their throat slightly. Snape was watching the timepiece in his hand, though, and paid no heed to that, for once. The small timepiece in his hand clicked into place on the twelve. "Begin," Snape said, loud and clear, and of course menacing, warranting the almost coordinated shuffle as every student started into the test before them.
----
"Well, that was marvelous," Ron sighed as he walked alongside his two friends towards the library. Hermione had insisted they spend their free period after Potions in the library, getting an early start on studying for their NEWTs. Ron complained, naturally, citing the seven whole months before the tests were even scheduled to be given out.
As per usual, Hermione stood by her reasoning, and they were soon on their way to the library, instead of doing something trivial and pointless or otherwise enjoying their time. About a foot or two from the doors of their destination, Harry suddenly stopped.
"Damn," he swore quietly, eyeing Professor Flitwick down the hall. A quick chorus of 'What?' from Hermione and Ron followed.
"I forgot my Potions notes," Harry said. Hermione frowned, wondering how on Earth someone could forget something like that. Ron just shrugged and opened the door to the library, holding it open for Hermione.
Harry turned to head back down to the dungeons. "I'll catch up with you later," he called. The hall was mostly emptied out by now. The next class had started, and soon Harry was the only one left in the halls leading to the dark and gloomy floor where the Potions lab was set up.
As he turned down the last corridor to the lab, Harry could see the door was open as he neared. There was a voice coming from the room, muttering to itself, it seemed. It was too quiet to be a class. Harry rounded the corner of the doorway and looked across the room to see a cloaked figure kneeling down over the floor near the underside of a table.
Harry stepped into the room, watching the other student as he made his way to his table where he could see his book, unconfiscated by a nosy Snape. The student, hearing Harry's footsteps, lifted his head, and when he saw who it was, stood up. It was none other than Draco Malfoy.
"Potter," he acknowledged, with a rather sweeping glance down Harry's body. Draco crossed his arms and leaned back against his table, watching Harry reach his own and pick up his book.
"What are you still doing here?" Harry asked him. Malfoy wasn't nearly as rude to him in private as he was when his faithful toadies were around, Harry noted. He wondered if it was because of their strange new intimacy from the other day, or if Draco was just in a good mood.
Draco waved a negligent hand at the few remaining black smears on the floor beside his table. "Accidentally dropped my ink," he said, and gestured with the cloth in his hand, already blotted with black. "Snape tossed this at me, so I got stuck cleaning it up."
"Oh," Harry said, picking up his notebook. Draco pulled his wand out of his sleeve, and Harry didn't have time to be worried about what Draco was planning to do. With a barely audible spell uttered under his breath, the cloth in Draco's other hand levitated into the air and burst into flames.
Draco gave an appraising look to the empty air where the cloth had been, and seemed pleased. He then rubbed his boot over the ink smudges still on the floor before he looked up. "You still here, Potter?"
Harry simply nodded, not knowing why he was even still in the room. He had his book, he'd been pleasant, and Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the library. Draco replaced his wand up his sleeve and started towards Harry. Not knowing he had even been moving, Harry found he had backed himself up as far as he could. Draco had cornered him against Snape's desk, Harry realized as he looked over his shoulder. He frowned at an open jar of goop before his attention snapped back to Draco.
Draco advanced up the small step to Snape's desk, stepping up and placing himself mere inches away from Harry's body. He tilted his head thoughtfully as he slipped a hand under Harry's robe and pulled up his shirt slightly, enough to hook a finger into a belt loop. Slowly, he let his lips slide into a soft smirk. Harry had no room to move, and was barely aware that Draco had pulled his arms down and set his book aside. "What?" Harry asked, as he caught sight of the smirk now plastered on Draco's face.
"Oh," Draco started, sliding his other hand to Harry's other hip and doing the same. "I thought we'd just entertain ourselves, have a bit of fun." He pulled with his fingers linked onto Harry's trousers, bringing Harry up from his slight lean on the desk and flush against himself. "What do you reckon?"
Harry scooted back to the desk, even if it only gave him two inches between their bodies, but it was something. "Er, Snape will be here any second," Harry said, trying to sound like he didn't want to have the kind of fun Draco was meaning. He wasn't against it, but in Snape's office? And on his desk, no less.
"Our dear Snape has run off to a meeting," Draco replied happily, letting his eyes drift down Harry's body again, clearly appreciating what they saw, and rather blatantly, to boot. "We'll have well over an hour, I'd say." Draco hoped it would be that long; he saw such potential before him. He wanted to take a bit more time with Harry this round.
Harry cleared his throat nervously under Draco's heavy stare, and wished he had his book back. Oh, no. Books. "Uh, I - I've got to get back to the library. Ron and Hermione, they're waiting for me back at..." He trailed off for a second, watching as Draco licked his lips and took a firmer hold on one of his hips. "The library," he finished weakly, trying to inch his way sideways enough so he could have a clear path to run out the door.
Draco watched him, amused, and he pushed at Harry's side, moving him back into place and taking back the few feeble inches he'd gained. "No, I don't think so," he said. "How about we have a repeat of yesterday afternoon, shall we?" And before Harry could open his mouth, probably only to be able to say 'What?', he was rather roughly twisted around to face the blackboard.
He let out a startled gasp and had just enough time to look down before he was pushed over Professor Snape's desk, to find himself at a loss for trousers. Harry automatically began to push with his forearms, to lift himself off the desk, when he felt Draco's hands on his hips again. They felt a lot smoother, and a bit cool against his bare skin, which he hadn't remembered from the day before.
Not being able to help it, Harry let out a little squeak of pleasure when he felt the almost familiar feeling of a wet, talented tongue running along his crack. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was absentmindedly pushing back against Draco's face and gasping when he was intimately reacquainted with its talents.
Draco hummed low in his throat, warranting more squirming from Harry as he used his thumbs to part the other boy's arse further. Harry let out a deep groan as he felt Draco's fingers pulling and pushing at his skin. When Draco deepened, Harry felt himself almost melt at the feeling. His head slipped forward to hit against the desk's surface, eliciting a muttered, "Ow."
Preoccupied as he was with his task at hand, Draco didn't hear Harry, and he delved far as he could, slicking Harry for what was to come. A moment later he pulled back and watched, a bit surprised, as Harry squirmed backwards, wanting more. Draco grinned, feeling that he'd prepared Harry sufficiently for his purposes, and stood up behind him.
He decided to forego magicking his trousers off, and just pulled them down around his thighs. Stepping up against Harry, Draco pressed into the warm crevice, making Harry moan. Draco brought a hand to his mouth and dripped a gob of saliva into it. He slipped the other hand under Harry's shirt, rubbing half to comfort, half to push him back down onto the desk.
Draco rubbed the spit over himself, and took hold to line up with Harry. He pressed forward slowly, taking hold of Harry's hips, and worked himself into velvet heat. Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the pain, but it didn't hurt as much as before. Malfoy was going slow to start, like he had been last time, but using only spit wasn't a very comfortable experience.
His hands tightened the already strong hold he had on Harry's hips, and Draco proceeded, pressing forward slowly into the other boy. The blond tilted his head down on his second out-stroke, panting as he became more aroused at watching hiimself disappear and reappear within the brunet. Harry's grip on the desk in front of him was challenged as Draco pushed harder. He turned his head to look at the chair not two feet away, and tried not to picture his Potions master sitting right there, right now. Harry cried out and shut his eyes as Draco changed the angle of his hips, heaving against that wonderful bundle of nerves on each forward stroke.
Everything else seemed to fade from their minds as Draco continued in this vein until he felt his bollocks start to tighten. He pulled on Harry's hips as he pushed forward and climaxed hard. Harry had heard the change in Draco's breathing, surprised he was even paying that much attention to the blond at times like this, and knew that it was a signal that his climax was approaching. He didn't think Malfoy would help get him off after the fact, so Harry steadied himself as best he could and moved a hand from the edge of the desk toward his groin.
He grabbed himself roughly and began to pull quickly, in time with Draco's pushing. Harry's eyes fell shut and his mind reeled as he felt Draco's orgasm, and he cried out himself, releasing himself to splatter the edge of the desk. Draco slumped down against the other boy's back, mindful of their closeness as he panted heavily. Harry did likewise as he felt his knees begin to wobble slightly from the effort to keep himself above the desk and not knock anything out of place.
After a brief moment, Draco began to withdraw as slowly as he could, and pulled his trousers back up. He fastened them up again and stepped back from the Gryffindor so he could get up as well. Harry shakily stood and muttered the counter charm, redressing himself, knowing full well Draco wouldn't be so kind as to do it for him. Harry turned and leaned back slightly against the desk, but still not wanting to move any papers for fear of Snape finding out someone had touched his things.
Draco straightened a cuff of his robes and looked up at Harry, who was now facing him. With almost an appraising look, Draco watched the dark haired boy with a strange expression in his eyes before he spoke. "Thanks again," he said, the smugness not quite at its fullest possible extent, Harry noticed. "See you around, Potter."
Without waiting for any type of response, Draco turned and made for the door, on his way back to the Slytherin common room. Harry watched him leave before he took a steadying breath. "I'm sure," Harry muttered derisively to himself as he turned back to the desk to survey the damage.
He had tried, as much as he could while finishing himself, to keep his discharge to an unused space on the desk. He lifted his robe and found an inconspicuous spot on the inside near the back of his thigh, and twisted it so he could wipe up the mess off Snape's desk.
It seemed oddly quiet in the dungeon room now, and Harry was in no mood to stick around, as he begin to feel like the dismembered dragon eyes in random jars on the shelves were watching him accusingly. The desk cleaned, Harry picked up his book, wondering how long he'd been gone from the time he left Hermione and Ron at the library. He took one last look at the desk when he got to the threshold, before turning and making his way back to the library.
----
Harry had just made it to the library to explain that he'd got down to the potions lab just fine, but on his way back, he had done his best to avoid a rather testy looking Baron. Ron winced in sympathy, clearly believing him, as they'd done the same together one night on the way back from the owlery. Hermione, on the other hand, looked skeptical, but seemed to take his story for the truth, or close enough.
They had evidently been in a conversation before he'd gotten there, and they continued on that, almost ignoring his presence but to ask for his opinions. Hermione had been thinking about women's rights, as she'd learned about them in Muggle Studies that day. Harry wasn't really tuned in to all their points, but he did catch that Ron agreed with her on most things. That helped to keep the conversation positive, as Hermione didn't have to become affronted by someone disagreeing with her.
The bell rang, and Hermione belatedly said she'd sent Ron up to their dorms to grab Harry's bag, with his Quidditch robes inside, and his books for their next class. "Oh, thanks for that," Harry said to her, taking the bag and swinging it over his shoulder. She smiled at him and they made their way out of the library, being glared at suspiciously by Madam Pince as they left.
"I s'pose you're going straight to practice after, Harry?" Ron asked him when they got into the greenhouse. They set their things down at their table, and Ron had to prod his friend after a minute, since Harry had evidently not heard him. "Oi."
"What?" Harry said, turning to face Ron. "Oh, yeah, I probably will, since I've got my robes on me." Harry had forgotten that the Slytherins weren't in the same greenhouse as they were today, as they had been for the past week. They were separated with the gender of the plant they were working with. Slytherin students were moved to Greenhouse Four, with the males, and the Gryffindors were in Greenhouse Three with the females.
"I've still got to grab mine. What's with you?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry immediately tried to stop glaring wistfully, if it were possible to do that, at the table that Malfoy and Goyle usually used.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing, just forgot the Slytherins were moved for the rest of the week."
Ron grinned. "Yeah, good thing, too. We would never have gotten these seeds if they were in here yakking about random things to try and distract us." Just then, Neville, hearing what Ron had said about their progress on the plants, leaned over said plants to see them both more clearly from his table.
"I helped Professor Sprout carry some soil into Greenhouse Four, and a lot of the Slytherins' plants are wilty and dead," he said, smiling. That would mean their rival house would have points taken away for letting their plants die off. Harry and Ron laughed at that, and then turned their attention to Professor Sprout, who had just entered the greenhouse.
"Alright, I've set the Slytherins to mending their neglected plants. Now, let's all see the seeds you've collected..."
----
"You alright, Harry?"
Harry turned to see Neville following him in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. Hermione and Ron had already bid him 'see you later' and he'd started on his way to the Gryffindor change room to grab his broom and put his robes on. "Neville. Yeah, I'm alright."
The forgetful boy caught up with him, and looked a bit confused at that. "Oh," he said. "Well, I just thought you looked a bit off during Herbology, thought you might be ill."
He thought about that for a moment, and it was true. He had been a bit over there throughout the lesson, as he'd tried in vain to look through the fuzzy green walls of the house over to the adjacent Greenhouse Four, but to no avail, naturally. "Er, it was just a bit muggy in there today, fogged my brain up."
Neville laughed at that, and agreed, nodding. "You've got practice, I won't keep you," he said, smiling and turned to make his way back to the castle, where the last of the Slytherins could be seen reaching the top step.
Harry waved and turned back to face the pitch, still in the distance. His mind was pleasantly blank as he suited up and retrieved his Firebolt from the broom cupboard in the change room. He met Ron as he was leaving the room. "Oi, hurry, will you? I want to get started."
Ron nodded, obviously thinking he was late enough to not reply other than just agreeing and heading in to grab his broom and change. Harry walked out to the pitch to see his team assembled already, sans Ron.
Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil were already up in the air trying out some new passes they'd been working on, while the team's Beaters were trying to keep a Bludger restrained. Finally giving up on leaving the ball box open, they simply shut the lid. The Bludger gave a final jerk, moving the box at least an inch to the left, before it quieted. Seamus and Lavender, said Beaters, saw Harry coming over and stopped discussing the antsy ball when he reached them.
"So?" Seamus asked. He was rather non-descript, usually wanting to get to the game and have fun. He was a good Beater; strong and fast. With a good build for swinging the bat, it only increased his muscle size, and he didn't have an ego for it. All around a good player, Harry thought.
"Soon as Ron gets out here, we'll start... something." He took a breath of the late afternoon air, frowning slightly as he tried to think of what they needed to work on. Mostly they practiced with the Quaffle and the Chasers would perfect passes and dodge hits that would come from the other team. But, that left the Beaters with not much to do, except pretend to be on the other team, and do the hitting.
Lavender Brown barely suppressed her annoyance at his delay. She'd gotten tired of everyone telling her she was too snotty and prissy, so what did she do? Join the Quidditch team. In what position was what surprised most people. Gryffindor was known for having many female Chasers, but not many female Beaters. She got the respect for it, and for being a surprisingly good Beater, and people stopped saying she only cared about herself.
Seamus nodded behind Harry at Ron finally coming over to them. Ron was about to say something before he caught the look on Lavender's face, and grinned. "Letting the Bludgers loose today, Harry?"
Harry laughed. "Yeah, I reckon we are." He moved to the box and flipped the lid up, noting the Bludger had calmed down, and frowned. "Where's the Snitch?"
"Oh," Parvati said as she landed. Harry turned to her. "Creevey set it loose just before you came out, but then he had to use the loo." She shook her head, moving to stand beside Lavender and they began to fuss over a chipped nail. Harry looked confused at her. For Parvati being a determined Chaser, and Lavender being a toned up Beater, they were such girls sometimes.
"Harry! Harry!" Soft padding feet were rapidly approaching from behind as Dennis ran towards them. "Sorry," he panted, "it just hit me and I had to go. The Snitch is out." Dennis had been the latest addition to their team, after losing Katie Bell last year due to her graduation. Colin Creevey, avid Harry Potter fan, had tried to persuade his little brother to take his camera up in the air, but Dennis had rightfully declined.
As for the Snitch being let out by the youngest teammate, that was almost typical by now. Dennis did, indeed, have a keen eye for the little walnut-sized ball, and the first game they played, had actually told Harry where it was, winning them 210 points after beating Ravenclaw. They would need a Seeker next year, after Harry had left Hogwarts, so he encouraged Dennis to get some practice in occasionally.
"Right," Harry nodded. "Let's get this sorted, then." And sorted it was, in about ten minutes. Ron took his spot as Keeper first, followed by Dennis, and Dean as Team 1 Chasers, and Parvati and Harry, as Team 2 Chasers. Seamus took Team 2 for his own, and Lavender was left with Team 1.
Two Chasers to a team, yet Harry would still have to catch the Snitch, since it was loose anyway. There was one Beater to a team, one Keeper to the game, and all the balls. Harry stayed on the ground while the rest of his team flew up to standard playing height, and then he let loose the Bludgers. They zoomed straight up and then abruptly took right angles, aiming for Chasers. Seamus and Lavender went straight after them immediately, and Harry mounted his Firebolt and started into the game, as well.
It went well, Ron saving all but two shots, until there was an accident. Dean was hit by Seamus' Bludger, and had to be taken inside. That left the teams uneven, so Harry opted to just catch the Snitch and then they'd call it a day.
He hovered around the opposite end of the pitch that they were using, watching for the golden ball. Being so high up, he could see all the way to the castle, and see the large wooden doors leading inside. The sun was starting to go down, and Harry wanted to go inside and go to bed. He felt strangely tired, yet not. He didn't have any homework to do, so he supposed he could just lie in bed with his wand lit and read something guaranteed not to bore him to sleep.
Harry saw a glitter near a Hufflepuff-colored spectator stand, and started after it, surprised he even saw it. On his way speeding toward it, when it realized he was closing in, it up and fooled him by heading straight for him. Harry did a 180 and took off behind it, and then he suddenly remembered a time Malfoy did the exact same thing to him, being a little miffed that they were so close, and the Snitch no where in sight. Malfoy had thought, Get one more goal, injure Potter enough to knock him off his broom, and Slytherin wins.
It was a very close game, and he and Malfoy had been so close to either one of them catching the Snitch. They had it cornered under the stands, and had strangely worked together to lure it out enough to be grabbed. Malfoy, Harry thought, as he scissored his fingers closed over a wing, and felt the little mechanical animal flutter helplessly before it gave up and folded.
Harry rose and watched his team through glazed eyes as he thought of Draco Malfoy. What was going on with them? Before he really got thinking any further, he heard angry shouts coming from his team. "Finnegan, that was not a goal!" "Yes, it was!" "No, you were on a slant and it just looked like it." "Seamus, it wasn't," Dennis said.
Seamus sighed, defeated, and Harry made his way to them. "What's the score?" Harry asked, as they all just started descending on their brooms, seeing the Snitch in Harry's hand.
"60 to 80," Ron said. "It was close, but then my hand got skimmed by a Bludger and bruised it, so I missed a few. Seamus thinks it should be 70 for his team, but, oh, well."
"It's just practice," Seamus conceded, not upset at it, but simply accepting his mistake. "I hope Dean's okay, though." He'd had a cracked rib and broken wrist when they'd left the infirmary, but Madam Pomfrey assured them he'd be fine and sent them off again.
"Harry?"
Harry lifted his head from watching the stone steps as he walked up to the castle. He saw Parvati waiting for him, holding the door open. "You coming?"
"Yeah," he answered, trying to give a smile, but it didn't quite come out. She smiled back at him, anyway, though. Maybe he should try to talk to Malfoy? Not that Harry thought he'd listen, or not deny anything, as long as he had Crabbe or Goyle around him. He had no idea how or when to catch him alone.
----
"I did not!" Goyle complained, unusually daring to speak back to Malfoy. He'd gotten cuts on his hands for two, because Draco didn't want to touch the aggressive, spiny plants. Never mind the whole five minutes it would take to heal them as if they were never there to begin with, Draco still wouldn't have placed his pinky finger in stabbing range of the plants.
"Well, you certainly did something to it, making it all limp and dry like that," Draco said, sounding final, and striding a little faster to get ahead of the two large boys flanking him. "Oi, Pussy, wait up!"
A tall boy in front of him, with short cropped dark hair, but long enough to look a bit messy, turned and looked a little annoyed at Draco before stopping at the top of the stairs to wait for Malfoy. "What, Draco?" he asked with a now clearly annoyed tone, and sounding bored. Adrian Pucey was one of the only few Slytherins in the entire House to take any kind of testy air with Draco.
"When's the next practice?" Draco asked. He had a begrudging respect for Pucey, since he was their House team captain. They had gathered the team, sans Draco, and voted on a new captain the year before. Marcus Flint, being the predecessor, graduated two years ago, and then the team was left captainless, due to avoidance of the subject.
"When Hufflepuff is done with the pitch tomorrow after lunch," Adrian answered him. It was surprising to none that Draco was still on the team, despite him being rather shoddy at Quidditch. No doubt, no one wanted to upset the malicious silver blond by not automatically lifting him up to captaincy, but no one wanted to see their team utterly fail under his shitty tactics, either.
The team avoided the issue like the plague, until they finally had to do something, feeling collectively leaderless and their old strategies dying out as the other House teams caught on to their game. In the meantime, Adrian had stood in as captain, being the oldest player on the team. He was, in fact, the oldest student in the entire school. He should have graduated the year before, but due to one of Draco's numerous miscalculations on how they should play the game, was hurt badly by a Bludger, and had to take his NEWTs a day later, while still quite delirious from various healing potions.
The result: he had to retake his last year at Hogwarts. This had a large effect on Pucey, once being an energetic Chaser, and popular student, was now almost despondent and depressed, choosing to linger at the back of his crowd. His crowd was Draco's crowd, and Draco often mistook him for a friend. He was glad Draco wouldn't take shit from him, knowing full well he was basically breezing through this entire year, and Malfoy would often ask him how to do things. In private, of course.
Draco slapped him on the back and grinned, propelling him forward along his side. "So, Pussy," he said, using his favored nickname for Adrian, making fun of his last name, "I've got an idea for our match against Gryffindor."
"What's that?" Adrian asked morosely. What he really wanted was to get the hell out of this school, and pick up a job, and try and forget his extended year. And maybe win the House Cup, but that sure as shit stinks wasn't going to happen with one of Draco's ideas; he had to give Malfoy credit for putting thought into it, though.
"Well, at practice, I was thinking we could switch players around, and see how that goes." Oh, this spiel again. Draco seemed to think he would do well with his lithe frame as a Beater. The rest of the team had a different idea for him; he should stay Seeker, because he was thin and agile, even if he was shit.
"Draco, were you even at the last practice?" McDougall asked, not recalling the session himself, but sure that Draco wasn't there, because he hadn't been asked once to give him the Bludger bat, 'just to try'.
"Er, when was it?" Draco asked, slightly affronted by the question. He hadn't been to the pitch for quite some time, it seemed. "Shit..." he said more to himself than out loud, but his entourage still heard him.
"What?" asked Goyle, who had stopped rubbing his hands, finding it made them worse, but still treating them gently. Theodore Nott looked at him questioningly, and Goyle lifted his hands into the light of the torch in a sconce before the tapestry to their common room. Nott grimaced.
"Nothing," Draco replied swiftly. "I just forgot..." He trailed off, a slight crease to his brow. They'd reached the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, and Adrian was the first to the door, but even he was curious as to what had made Draco pause, thinking.
"Adrian, open the damn door!" Pansy shrieked from the back of the crowd, having received a few lewd glances at her chest. Attention was drawn from Draco as the tapestry rolled itself up upon the requested password the snake embroidered on it hissed out for, and they began to file into the room.
Draco stepped over the lowest brick of the wall that always stayed there, and made his way silently down the steps, still trying to think of what he had been doing. Blaise Zabini had come down the steps shortly behind Draco, and separated from him to the left of the room, into the boys' dorms. He came back out to find Draco sitting on his usually claimed couch, and sat down in a chair opposite. "Alright?"
Draco looked up and frowned at Blaise before answering. He nodded, still frowning, but seeming to come out of his thoughts and pulled a side table into the space between them as Blaise scooted his chair closer. They were paired for an assignment and had to get started on it.
"So, where were you the other day?" Blaise asked, laying out their papers. It was for Arithmancy, which they did with Ravenclaw, so naturally they had to get started so as not to be upstaged by the other House.
"Actually, you know, I'm not quite sure," Draco responded. He and Blaise had known each other before coming to Hogwarts, but had grown apart in their years there. They still knew each other quite well, but Blaise seemed quiet around Draco more often than not, and most people didn't even know they knew each other as well as they did. At one point, they even had called each other best friends.
"I saw you later that night, and you seemed rather smug about something or other," Blaise said, tossing a quill to Draco. Was it really that night? Draco thought. It didn't seem so long ago, but it did. He hadn't actually given thought to his first excursion with Potter since the second, and it was only to plan in his mind for a potential third. Oh, and of course to actually finish the deed.
"Like I said, I don't remember," Draco sighed. "NEWTs and all that," he added distractedly, and he shifted in his chair. He lifted his tongue in front of his teeth, feeling it around a canine as he watched a group of first years blur out of focus. He might have guessed a minute had passed when he heard a snapping sound, before realizing it was right in front of his face, in the form of Blaise's fingers. "What?" he snapped, frowning at the space where the first years had been sitting, and seeing no one there. Maybe more than a minute?
Blaise looked taken aback by the sharp question when Draco turned to face him, but looked at him curiously. In all the years he'd known Draco, he swore he'd only seen him stare blankly into thin air a total of four times. "Everything going alright?"
"Quite. Let's finish this assignment, yes?" Studiously turning his attention back to their schoolwork, Draco started shuffling papers absently, not really doing anything productive until Blaise started to read a question out loud.
----
Severus Snape made almost no noise as he swooped down the stairs to his dungeon. He did like thinking of the entire basement as 'his'. No other teachers taught down there, thinking it too gloomy to teach in, or too dirty, or damp, or cold. Dumbledore had called all the teachers together for a chat on how their classes were going, as he periodically did all throughout the year. And every single time, the old wizard had to ask if Severus was still happy with his classroom. The students weren't, of course, but Snape loved to watch them squirm and dare to ask him if they could go to the lavatory before they were done with their work.
The Slytherins weren't that bothered by it, seeing as how their own dormitory was in the dungeons, though it was much, much more comfortable than the Potions lab. That brought up another debate: whether or not Snape treated students fairly, not just the ones from his own house, but from the remaining three. He didn't; he chose his favorites, just like any other teacher, yet he decided to show his house loyalty in a more outright manner. He would have dared Dumbledore to say anything specifically about Harry Potter, but he did value his job.
Snape sat down behind his desk and let out an acrimonious sigh as he opened a drawer to take out his favorite quill. It was made of the finest, softest eagle feather, and would last a long time, what with all the P's, D's, and thankfully not many T's that he had to write in sharp red ink on his students' papers. He wasn't a vain person, and knew he wasn't rolling in the Galleons, but when it came to a proper quill, he couldn't be cheap. Snape pulled the pile of parchments haphazardly rolled up by messy students, and unrolled the first.
He frowned as he read it, but his expression wasn't due to the poorly explained properties of various dragon parts. Something wasn't right, and he was forced to look up and scan the room, glaring into the furthest, dustiest corners of the topmost shelves. What was wrong with this picture? It wasn't something overly large, but something minute. He turned his focus back onto his desk, and he saw nothing out of place. He was about to mark the paper in front of him when - wait - he saw a vial had been toppled over.
Full of parts of green and red blobs, mixing at some points to make a puke-like color, but still able to distinguish the separate colors. It should definitely not have been lying on its side, and there was no way that he had left it like that. Picking it up, Snape looked at it as if it would tell him an answer he'd long since wanted to know. After a moment, he set it down gently, upright, and looked back to his work.
Something still yet nagged at his senses, preying on his paranoia, and he plowed through the horridly written assignments. For once in his life, he was glad to find Miss Granger's paper, if only for a break in the monotonously blatant copying straight from the textbooks, and not even copying it down correctly. Ah, and when he was finished with them all, he didn't even bother getting up, but took out his wand and levitated them to a side table, ready for their distribution to their writers tomorrow.
Now, on to more important things, Snape thought as he stood from his chair and walked around his desk. The red and green vial had caught his attention yet again, and he noted that it was in plain sight from this angle towards the desk. As opposed to someone sitting in his chair, it was easy to knock over this particular bottle from this side. Snape ruled out someone rifling through his drawers, which he would have known if that was the case, anyway, as there were numerous charms on them to glue the trespasser's hands to the desk if they so chose to rummage through his things without permission.
He would have to think about this, but he didn't want any more work to be carried over to the next day, therefore piling up. It'd been a long time since he'd had an evening to himself, free from the toils of grading papers or filling in forms, or testing potions gone horribly wrong. Snape looked down at the small stack of forms on his desk, next to the ominous vial, and made to pick them up. He was surprised to find a slight resistance, and stopped pulling before he ripped the paper. Sliding his hand underneath, he felt a round spot where the papers were stuck to the surface of his desk, and he gently pried it off.
He had never, ever, in his eighteen years working at Hogwarts, spilled anything on his desk. Someone had been in here, and what on earth was this flaky substance on his fingers? He glared at the paper, and then turned his gaze on the desk. Stooping down, Severus ran a hand over the slightly bumpy desktop, and as he did so, lifting up more flakes from the small cracks and dips of his well used desk. He grimaced at it, and swore to take fifty points from the house of the student who defiled his desk with... whatever this was. Sweeping it onto the floor with a quickly conjured cloth, he made his way back to his chair and sat down with the order forms.
He began reading about the information requested from the person ordering, as he always did, even though he could almost tell a second party what it said by heart. When he came to the first blank in which he would fill in the first item in his stock that needed replenishing, he stopped. There was a small puddle, what Snape would have to call it, of something white sitting on the blank. He would almost have missed it, as it blended into the paper well enough, and he cruelly grinned as he set the paper down, opened another drawer with clean, empty test tubes inside.
Pulling one out, he scraped the substance inside of it, and put a stopper in the open hole to enclose it. Severus opened a third drawer, and set the tube gently inside for later. The contents of the cylindrical container intrigued him and disgusted him all at once. The substance was almost unmistakable, and he would definitely be running a test on it, and another potion would be in order for the bigger catch of the culprit. Yes, he'd look at it later, he promised himself, as he cleaned up what was left of the substance off the order form. He began to fill it out, putting in the usual things he ran out of, and one or two rarely used items that were for himself and his new project.
----
"Now, remember we've only got ten minutes to eat," Hermione said as she walked, several paces ahead of Ron and Harry on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. "We've got a lot of studying to do still, and the NEWTs are only seven months away!"
Ron sighed and looked over to his best mate. "I swear," he said, interrupting himself with a yawn, "the closer it gets to our exams, the worse she gets. You'd think she'd slow down, but she just speeds up."
"Perpetual motion personified," Harry mumbled, nodding in agreement with Ron. He was still half asleep, and almost fell behind Ron's tired steps as well as Hermione's hurried ones. He'd had a restless night, and it must have been near to four in the morning before he fell asleep. Too many things had been floating through his mind, mostly centering around Draco, and what had happened the day before. If it wasn't so ridiculous to even ponder, Harry might almost think Draco had some sort of feelings for him.
Then again, just because someone was shagging you left and right, didn't mean they liked you. As they neared the Hall, Harry tried to slink out of Draco's view as he came around the corner followed by several other Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson was a perfect example of this; she was reputed to be rather slutty around the Slytherin House, and he knew for a fact that even the Slytherins, mostly, disliked her. Harry sighed and moved to Ron's other side, still following Hermione, and going through the huge double doors into the Great Hall.
He was too tired to listen to what people were chattering about eating at the moment, but his nose took the lead over to a big bowl of one of his favorite foods, porridge. Hermione had taken her seat across from her two best friends, who actually hadn't sat down yet, and began dishing things onto her plate like they were going to disappear. Harry sat down and stared at her unnaturally shoveling food into her mouth. Absent was the usual tome she had her face hidden behind, and usually someone had to prod her to take a break from reading to actually eat, but no one had to take on that small task this morning, as she was eating like she thought someone would snatch her food right out from under her face.
The Gryffindors surrounding her gave curious glances her way, wondering why the change this morning, but decided wisely not to ask, as she was bound to start talking before long. Ron sat next to Harry, taking their predetermined seats across the table from Hermione, and Ron began to eat just as quickly. He usually ate fast anyway, but instead of helping himself to thirds or fourths, he kept it down to seconds. Harry was just starting into his hot porridge, picking up a spoonful after he set his toast down, and blew on it a bit before putting the spoon in his mouth.
After only a few more spoonfuls, Harry started to stare blankly at his food, and yawned a few times. He was only startled out of a horrifying face dive into his bowl when someone would clink their fork or spoon a little too forcefully against their dishes. Not even a minute later, Hermione stood up, straightened her robes and hefted her bag over her shoulder. He had barely eaten half of his breakfast when Hermione crossed her arms and looked pointedly at her friends.
Ron had started to get up when he heard Hermione clear her throat, annoyed she was almost being ignored, when she had clearly told them that they had ten minutes before they were off to the library. Ron looked put upon as he picked up two more slices of toast and chewed on them quietly as Hermione seemingly appraised him for Merlin knows what. Being good enough to study with her, or something.
Harry, drawn out of his daze at the sudden odd silence around him, looked up and found Ron and Hermione watching him. Ron looked a bit toned down, and even his hair seemed to be flattened into submission, but dealing with an aggressive Hermione would do that to most anyone. Hermione stared at him, almost looking incredulous at his blank expression.
"What?" Harry asked as he set his spoon down before he dropped it, or something. He shifted his heavy-lidded eyes between the two, and tried not to make himself dizzy, and have his brain decide to take that dive into his porridge after all.
Other students around them began to watch as soon as the tension spilled over to them. She began tapping her foot, strangely audible in the loud room, but Hermione's face softened a bit as she took in the tired and worn out appearance of the other boy. "Are you almost finished, Harry?"
Harry looked down, his eyes a bit blurry, even through his glasses. He wasn't sure if his bowl was almost empty, but he would bet it wasn't, and that certainly looked like the shape of his teeth, that bite taken out of the toast sitting on his plate. "No," he said sleepily. "You go on, and I'll finish this up. I'll meet you in the library."
"Okay," Ron answered quickly, "we'll be in the library." He looked up to Hermione and his expression clearly said, 'Don't ask,' so she didn't. Harry absently nodded his thanks and actually started eating, feeling a bit hungry now that he had woken up a bit more. Ron grabbed his bag from under his seat on the long bench, and made his way to the doors, and out of the Great Hall.
Hermione was outside of the Hall before Ron was, and when he caught up with her, they started down the corridors towards the library. The only sounds while they walked down the hall were their footsteps and the sound of students growing more faint with every step. Once they turned the corner, Hermione asked a question. "Do you think he's alright?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders, turning to look at Hermione as he did so. "Dunno, really," he said. She frowned at him and she didn't speak again until they reached their usual table in the library. Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian, was already back from breakfast, sitting at her desk, and glowering over her glasses at them as they passed her.
They sat down at the table and Hermione lifted her bag onto its surface, starting to drag books out of it. Ron watched with trepidation; they were never-ending, four thousand page books. He hoped they were only going to be used for looking up reference points; he didn't read any of these from front to back in class, and he really didn't want to do it now, either. "I'm just going to read the chapter on foreign affairs and then I'll ask you questions."
He nodded and took out a much smaller book from his bag, flopped it open and started reading, trying to memorize anything at all. The library was quiet, only disturbed when they flipped pages, or Madam Pince's shoes tapping sharply on the wood floor as she stalked up and down aisles for whatever she was looking for. Suddenly, though, Hermione sat back in her chair and sighed.
Ron, glad to have a little break, looked up at her questioningly. She looked at her watch and pulled her sleeve back over it when she was done. "What's taking Harry so long?"
"Maybe he's still eating. Some people like to enjoy their breakfast," Ron answered, a bit longingly. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, knowing quite well he'd rather be sitting downstairs at Gryffindor table, eating more toasted bacon sandwiches, melded together with porridge. She held back a shudder at Ron's improvised breakfast; she put weird things together, too, sometimes so she couldn't talk. She'd been content with her soft boiled eggs and toast, but she did feel a bit bloated now, due to the speed in which she inhaled it all.
"I suppose I've been a bit harsh with our study schedule," Hermione admitted, ignoring Ron's comment involving the word 'understatement'. "Maybe he just wants some peace and quiet, with no one else around so he can study, uninterrupted."
"Why would he want that?" Ron asked, bewildered. "Why he'd want to do it himself when we have you to ride us hard, telling us what to study and when is beyond me." That was usually the closest Ron ever came to honestly thanking Hermione for always helping him with his studying. Without her, he would have failed a few classes, no doubt.
Hermione smiled, and Ron ducked his head a little. "Well," she said, still smiling, but she let it fade. "He does keep disappearing at odd times." Ron obviously saw this as something new, as he'd not noticed that before. "Oh, it's mostly when he thinks no one else is looking. Except me, of course, but I'm smart like that."
Ron grinned and threatened to chuckle, and Hermione cleared her throat. They all knew she liked being a know-it-all, but she had to admit it sometimes when she needed a little boost with her study efforts. "Maybe he's got a girlfriend?" Ron asked, and then thought about that for a moment. He wouldn't be jealous, but he'd wonder who.
"Harry?" Hermione asked. "But wouldn't he tell us?" She hoped he would, but at the same time, hoped he might not. She had other sights in mind, but she had to admit that Harry was good-looking, despite his ever tousled hair.
"He would have told me, I'd think," Ron said. "I dunno. Do you think he's a virgin?" As soon as Hermione blushed, Ron realized what he'd actually said. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's okay," she said, more quietly than she usually spoke. "I don't know. I'd think so, but sometimes you never know about people." She began to shuffle her books, and opened a new one, starting to feign reading as a distraction. Ron wondered what she meant by that, and thought, maybe she's had sex with someone? He felt like something heavy had dropped down into the pit of his half empty stomach, and oddly felt left out.
"He would have told us, right?" Ron asked, feeling bold and awkward at the same time. It had just hit him that they were all growing up, and wondered where the time had gone.
"Yeah," Hermione said quickly. "He still could be off studying, right?"
"Oh, yeah. That's probably what he's doing." They both were silent for a moment, both thinking the same things, though neither of them knew it. Hermione was wondering how Ron would think about her if he knew how far she'd gone with a boy. Ron was thinking about their fourth year, when he'd barely recognized Hermione at the dance. They both were thinking about each other, in a more personal way than they had before.
Then, there was Harry. Could he really be having sex with someone? Who would it be? Hermione hadn't noticed anyone else gone when Harry was, but it could very well be someone from another house. She wasn't jealous, but she truly would think Harry would tell her something like this. It was important, and she hoped Ron would, too, despite the fact it would be an uncomfortable situation.
He thought he would know Harry well enough by their seventh year to know if he was a virgin or not. It was a hard thing to tell, though. He would have told me, Ron thought, surely he would have told me. Unless it was someone ugly, but they didn't even personally know anyone that was ugly. Maybe Hermione was right, and Harry was just studying by himself. Harry would have certainly told them that, though, wouldn't he?
Hermione might have been a bit upset, but if he'd have told Ron, they could have broken it to her softly. Hermione had stopped flipping pages, and looked across the table to see Ron looking back at her. They both had rather blank expressions, though there were obviously many little gears turning, and a few new ones had undoubtedly started up as well. Their eyes met, and they shared a worried concern about Harry, but decided to let it go.
It was hard to look away, so they kept looking at each other, and started attempting to avoid each other's eyes at the same time, before Ron cleared his throat unnecessarily loudly. "Right," he started, sounding determined. If Harry needed some time to himself, they wouldn't interfere, unless he started to look worse, or missed any classes. Ron leaned across the table to grab one of Hermione's Muggle Studies texts; he flipped a few pages. "What is the Muggle Prime Minister's knowledge of the Ministry of Magic, and how and why would the Minister liaise with his Muggle counterpart?"
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