Maple Syrup

Harry clutched at his head, and bounced gracelessly off the walls of the stone passageway. Never again, he told himself, never again would he sneak off into Hogsmeade for a quick drink with Seamus and Dean. The previous night, the three had competed with each other, ordering shot after shot of suspicious liquids, some steaming, some actually flaming, all smelling violently unhealthy. Harry had been dragged along in the boys' wake, and being unused to alcohol, had been the most affected of the three of them. After he had been soundly drunk under the table, his so-called friends had raced back towards Hogwarts, singing boisterously. They claimed that they were going to let off 'Dr Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks' at the school gates, until Filch woke up and let them in.

If Harry had been able to stand straight, he might have raced after them and told them about his secret passageway. As it was though, he couldn't be bothered - if Filch murdered them, they deserved it. Instead, he had paid Madam Rosmerta a considerable sum of money to keep quiet, and taken a room upstairs in the Three Broomsticks. He had woken the following morning to a splitting headache, and an uncontrollable desire to vomit up the contents of his stomach. Once that urge had been taken care of in the en-suite toilet, Harry had made his way through the little village to Honeydukes sweet shop. Under cover of his invisibility cloak he had snuck inside and crept into the tunnel back to Hogwarts.

And so here he was, staggering along and vowing never to drink any alcohol ever again - particularly if it was on fire. It felt as though there was a small furry animal living inside his throat. His clothes stunk of the aromatic pipe tobacco that older wizards had been smoking around them. The worst thing though, was the selective amnesia he seemed to be suffering. He definitely remembered singing something at the top of his lungs, but... had there been a dance as well? Everything was all so hazy...

A low moan in the tunnel ahead of him made Harry jump, but he recovered quickly. No doubt it was Moaning Myrtle, wallowing in self-pity. She really seemed to enjoy the miserable, moaning and wailing stereotype of ghosts. Harry tried to be as quiet as possible. If he could avoid a confrontation, he would.

There was another moan, this one longer and louder. Harry began to doubt his guesswork. It sounded more masculine than Myrtle, maybe it was a male ghost - or another student...

He stayed silent just in case, and pulled his invisibility cloak tighter. Harry shuffled up to the next corner in the tunnel. Just around it, there was a soft blue glow. Whoever was down here clearly had some light, which more or less ruled out ghosts. Moving as delicately as he could, Harry crept forwards. Feeling the cloak beginning to come loose, he ducked down behind a handy boulder.

He waited for a second, to see if there was any kind of response. Nothing came for a long while. Then...

'Ohhhhhh...'

Another primal moan. Whatever was doing the moaning was clearly either in a lot of pain, or being very melodramatic. Harry was just about to stand up, or call out, when he heard a noise that made his blood run cold.

A giggle.

Normally, that would have been a fairly harmless sound, even pleasant. Now though, it was mortifying. Harry immediately realised what he had stumbled upon. Two students were messing around, maybe actually having sex, in the tunnel right in front of him.

He tried to think. What were the options? He could wait here, and let them get it over with. That option didn't seem too tempting at the moment though, Harry wasn't all that keen on voyeurism. Also, there was a time limit here. It was nine-ish now. Harry had a Transfiguration class at half past ten, before which he wanted to shower. The students in this tunnel were probably sixth or seventh years, which meant that they could easily have free periods until midday.

Was there a better option? Well, he could sneak back down the tunnel, creep out of Honeydukes, across Hogsmeade, break into the Shrieking Shack, go through the other secret tunnel, freeze the Whomping Willow and cut across Hogwarts grounds. The invisibility cloak would make that feasible, but the chances of him making the journey in an hour were pretty slim.

It looked like Option Three then...

Sneaking past the fornicating couple, trying to avoid both seeing and being seen. At least the tunnel was wider here. There would be plenty of room, and nobody could see him in his father's cloak. If he was careful then this could work...

Harry adjusted the cloak and stood, very slowly, with his eyes clenched shut. Although he had decided not to look at the couple, he realised that he needed to know where they were, so that he could avoid standing on them. Ideally he would have taken his glasses off for this bit, but he didn't know whether he could do that without revealing himself. He lifted his eyelids a fraction, and tried to unfocus his vision. It was marginally successful - he couldn't make out any details on the pinkish blob in the passage. Unfortunately, he also couldn't see where the walls were. Everything around the blob was a uniform grey. If he tried to walk with his eyes screwed up like this, he would trip over straight away. He closed the eyelids again and thought.

'What the hell?' his mind suggested, unpleasantly. 'Its their own stupid fault for having sex in such a public... secret passage. Take a really quick look. They'll never know...'

Harry was too tired to argue with the little voice. He faced in the direction of the noises, and opened his eyes for a fraction of a second.

Once his mind had processed the snapshot, he rather wished he hadn't looked. The two figures in the tunnel were both naked, one was lying flat on their back, and the other (clearly a male) was kneeling between the parted legs. They weren't actually having sex yet, but it couldn't be far off. The briefness of the glance, in the dim light, had not been enough to distinguish facial details, but unfortunately that turned out to be unnecessary. A tiny glimpse of hair had been all Harry needed to recognise that colour.

Weasley Orange.

Which meant that the girl lying on her back must be Ginny.

Well, Harry had heard the rumours of course, everybody had, but he had never believed them before. He had honestly thought that Pansy Parkinson had just made up the stories to wind Ginny up, but here was proof that she did sleep around. The boy definitely wasn't Ginny's boyfriend, because Dean Thomas was black.

Harry had seen enough to be able to dodge around the couple, but now he was intrigued. Who was Ginny having this fling with? It was no good - his curiosity wouldn't let him leave now, not without knowing the full story. He aimed his face in the unknown boy's direction, and opened his eyes fully.

For a second, Harry thought that he had gone mad, but he quickly reassessed the situation. Clearly it was Ginny who had gone mad, because kneeling there, with a predatory look on his face, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Harry could actually see the lust in the pale boy's eyes. He was almost demonic. How could a nice, normal girl from the Weasley family be drawn in by somebody so obnoxious, so manipulative, so evil? His eyes drifted down from Malfoy's steely irises over his pointed nose, parted lips and sharp chin. Not particularly wanting to make an in depth study of Malfoy's body, Harry's gaze leapt to the figure on the floor. What he saw made him gasp quietly. It wasn't Ginny at all. It was a second boy. His eyelids slammed shut instinctively.

This was beyond bizarre. Malfoy was gay? Well, okay, that was another rumour which was fairly common, but Harry had always thought it highly unlikely. Draco was the most bigoted boy in the entire school. Surely it was impossible to realise that you were homosexual without developing some degree of tolerance? And this wasn't as if Draco was just a little bit uncertain about his sexuality - he was actually about to fuck a boy, and looked damn excited about it.

But which boy? There was still that distinctive ginger hair to account for. Something began to claw at the inside of Harry's chest insistently, as though his heart was being squeezed tightly between it's accelerating beats. Because even though the prone figure was not Ginny, it didn't change his original realisation. Only one wizarding family had hair that colour, and they only had two children at Hogwarts.

This time, Harry couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He must be wrong, he just had to be. The thought of Ginny parting her legs for a Malfoy had been a horrific one, but it had not caused the surge of emotions that Harry was feeling now. Absolute betrayal was prominent amongst them. He had to confirm his suspicions, but he just couldn't bear to.

Maybe another one of the Weasleys had made a pit-stop at the castle. That would be less upsetting. Percy maybe. Harry could almost understand it if Percy was being drawn to the Dark Side. Or maybe it was one of the twins, looking for some completely meaningless fun.

'Just don't let it be Ron,' Harry repeated over and over in his head. 'Don't let it be Ron.'

He opened his eyes again and found himself looking at the face of the boy he had shared his best experiences with. The expression on the face though, was one that Harry had never seen there before. Unbridled lust.

And there it was. His best friend was about to have sex with his worst enemy.

Harry couldn't move at all. He thought he might be sick, but everything except his stomach seemed to be frozen.

Ron's tongue darted briefly out of his mouth, and he offered up a grin to the bastard above him.

'What do you think Harry would say if he could see me now?' he teased.

That didn't help to ease Harry's emotional turmoil.

'Precious Potter?' Malfoy spat. 'He'd probably faint.'

Ron laughed harshly. Harry's chest seemed to be squeezed even tighter.

'No, actually,' the Slytherin corrected himself, 'he'd probably hex us both, then run and tell Dumbledore that you're a Death Eater.'

Draco's left hand, which had been resting beside Ron's chest, trailed lightly over the freckled stomach, before joining his right hand, which was already wrapped around the boy's throbbing cock. Harry's eyes lingered there for a second, before he realised what he was watching, and shifted his gaze to the roof.

'You're right. He'd never understand,' Ron agreed, his breathing slightly hurried. 'Everything's black and white to Harry. Heroes and villains. Gryffindors and Slytherins.'

Draco began to move his wrists more rapidly, drawing all kinds of funny breathing noises from his prey.

'Sometimes Harry is right,' the Slytherin offered, with a scowl. 'I'm not some project for you to work on. I've chosen my side.'

'I know.'

'Whatever you say to me, you're not going to make me into Dumbledore's new pet.'

'I kn...' but Ron's response was cut in half by an involuntary gulp of air.

'Then why do you keep coming back to me?' Draco asked, ignoring Ron's squirming.

Harry bristled at the revelation that this wasn't a one-off occurrence. He discovered that he had regained the ability to move, but he stayed stock still. He wanted to hear Ron's answer to the question.

'Well, for a start, you're very good at that,' Ron said, with a glance at his crotch. 'And secondly, I'm bored of playing the good guy, the reliable sidekick. At least you see me for what I am.'

'Yeah, an easy fuck,' Malfoy shot back.

Harry didn't think that Draco was even joking. Surely a comment like that would be enough to make Ron realise his mistake and storm off...

Apparently not.

Ron laughed instead.

'Don't be such an arsehole.'

'Yeah, sorry...' Draco agreed, and for a millisecond, Harry thought that the Slytherin might show some hint of affection, something to explain how he had ensnared Ron. 'You make a good spy too.'

'I know you'd never use me like that,' Ron retorted sarcastically, but despite the joking tone, Harry suspected that Ron might actually believe it.

'Wouldn't I?' Draco asked. 'You've definitely told me some things that Voldemort wouldn't mind hearing.'

Harry's breath caught in his chest. Ron had actually told Malfoy something important. He was leaking information to the son of a Death Eater. Whilst the idea of a sexual relationship between Ron and Malfoy was disgusting and baffling, it paled into insignificance next to this. The boy who Harry had always trusted unconditionally, was leaking secrets to a Voldemort sympathiser.

'Nah, you won't do it,' Ron goaded. 'You're trying to stay out of the way in this war. You don't want to fight on the front line. If you tell anybody about us, and what you've learned from me, You-Know-Who is gonna want you to be a fully-fledged spy.'

'But I'd get loads of power when he wins,' Draco countered. 'I could become his number one servant, just by reciting one poem to him.'

There was a pause, as Harry's heart filled with dread.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...'

Malfoy recited the whole thing, perfectly. Ron just laid there, twitching under Draco's skilful fondling, seemingly carefree.

Harry was devastated. This was not just any secret, it was the only thing keeping him alive. Voldemort had only stopped trying to attack Harry because he wasn't sure what the prophecy said. Once he discovered it didn't contain any further warnings, he would be back to planning Harry's untimely death. How could Ron nonchalantly share this massive secret with Malfoy?

'Just because you've memorised it, doesn't mean you're going to use it though, does it?' the ginger boy finally managed to gasp, his breaths getting deeper and more erratic.

Was this some kind of a joke to Ron? He seemed to be getting off on the danger of it all. He was actually playing chicken with Malfoy, daring him to blink, but rather than risk his own skin, he was dangling Harry's life by a thread instead.

'You think you know me so well, just because I've fucked you a couple of times,' Draco growled, sounding like a wild animal. 'You don't have a clue what I'm capable of.'

'Show me,' Ron whispered back, confrontationally.

'Incarcero' yelled Draco, whose right hand had left Ron's dick at some point to pick up a wand.

Four stringy vines sprouted from the earth in a square around the redhead, and lashed out, ensnaring each of his limbs, before retreating most of the way back into the ground. This left Ron spread-eagled and helpless to avoid Draco's machinations. Far from being panicked though, Ron's eyes glowed with need.

In a way, Harry almost hoped that Malfoy was about to pull a knife on Ron, or cast a nasty hex. At least that would snap the boy out of this insane trance. What kind of crazy person didn't worry when Draco Malfoy tied them to the floor, completely naked, in a secret underground tunnel?

But Draco's next spell was not combative at all. It wasn't even cast in Ron's direction. Instead, Malfoy cast some kind of conjuring spell, which was accompanied by the familiar 'popping' sound of materialisation.

'What are you doing?' Ron asked, but there was still no degree of concern in his voice.

'Silen-!' Malfoy began, brandishing his wand, but halfway through casting the spell, he seemed to have a change of heart.

He dropped the wand to his side, and reached for a bundle of material that was resting beside Ron's tethered right ankle.

'Who needs magic?' he asked rhetorically as he shoved the fabric into Ron's mouth. 'There's no need for spells when I've got your underwear!'

Ron squeaked. Harry felt another wave of nausea hit him, as Malfoy reached down with his left hand and picked up the bottle he had conjured.

'Have I ever told you how much I love maple syrup?' Draco purred, in what was clearly supposed to be a sexy voice, though he sounded more like a creepy serial-killer to Harry.

As Draco unscrewed the lid and discarded it, Harry panicked. He couldn't watch anymore. He felt like he'd run a marathon. There didn't seem to be enough air left in the passageway. He needed to get out of here. His mind and his heart felt like they were about to overload. As he took a careful step backwards, and tried to draw his attention away from what he was witnessing, he realised that there were tears now streaming down his cheeks.

Not caring any more about his chances of getting back into the school, he turned and began to sprint back towards Hogsmeade.