And here they were, the blond boy and the black boy, finally, face-to-face in the hospital wing.
They eyed each other for some time, until the black got bored.
"So…"
"Yeah?"
"I heard that you might be gay."
The blond gave a little laugh. Not much, because his mouth was still bleeding.
"Oh, come on. Who would say something like that?"
"To say? Nobody. They only said that you were beaten up half-dead on a Quidditch training."
"Aaaaaand?"
"Most of the students doesn't know why…"
"For which I am really glad."
"…but I do."
"Figures. Who would know about what happened on a private meeting of the team of another house, if not our little celebrity?"
"I have my sources."
"There aren't any traitors in the Slytherin!"
"Really?"
"Okay, there are. But there aren't any traitor among us who would spy for Gryffindor."
"Of course. I just happen to be on good terms with some members of the school's staff, who happened to be near."
"That member would be Hagrid, I guess?"
"Or Dobby, or anyone else. I won't tell you names."
"Remind me to kill them both."
"Murdering staff members could seriously set back Slytherin in the race between houses, you know."
"Hmph. Maybe you are right… But what exactly do you know from your very secret sources?"
"I heard that you proposed a new uniform. A… pink one."
"That proves nothing."
"Honestly, Malfoy… You are too obvious! You were nearly as obvious as Dumbledore in his purple robes. Pink? Were you serious? Getting pink robes into a school in which everybody wears black?"
"You've just said that Dumbledore wears purple."
"Yes, but he has no taste whatsoever, and you know that. Ah, I nearly forgot… Here. He sent you lemon drops."
The blond boy put a piece of the yellow sweets into his mouth, and thrilled. It began to hum 'I hope you will get well soonish' to the tune of 'We wish you a merry Christmas'.
"Yeeeeeah. But! Pink is a shade of red, and Gryffindor sports red robes for Quidditch. Besides, only real men dare to wear pink."
"Everybody says that. Yet no one wears pink."
"Fine. Think what you want, Chosen One."
"Don't worry, I will."
"So what do you want? Don't tell me that you love the dicks too?"
"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you?"
"Are you visiting me to admit your never-ending love for me?"
"No, I am just curious."
"About what?"
"About you."
"Ah, it is flattering. Are you sure you don't have a never-ending love for me? Not even a crush?"
"Let's just call it a psychological interest."
"Excuse me?"
"Well… How come that you can be so lofty? I mean, for the muggles to be gay is like a hard slap in the face every day. And I see now that it is very similar between wizards, too. How can you be so… so nonchalant about it? Especially with your father and his views."
The blond wondered for a little. Would he really like to speak about it? Right now? With this boy?
But hey, maybe his mouth is not so damaged after all. Oh, it could even be the chance of a lifetime.
How would the champion of light moan and writhe during sex? How much would it worth later to be the first love of the savior of the magic world? Harry Potter wasn't blackmailable, that much he knew. Potter would never give him money or do anything else to prevent him to tell the papers about them. But being this man's first itself could be beneficial after his victory. This connection could open many gates, and be the foundation of a future fame. It could be useful even if His Majesty the Dark Lord would ever get stronger.
And he really needed to get rid of the horrible taste of lemon drops.
"I will tell you" he said finally "if you give me a kiss."
"A… what?!"
"Merlin's balls, Potter! Are you that childish? It is called kissing, or snogging, or smooching, when you..."
"I know, thanks" he said embarrassed. "I am just… outraged."
"Well, everything has a price. Even for you, pretty boy."
The black-haired boy looked around nervously. They were still alone in the hospital room.
"Only if… if you never speak about it" he managed to say with the rest of his dignity.
"Oh, that I can promise. I won't speak about that I snogged my mortal enemy, thanks for the warning."
"So…?"
"So come closer. It is very hard to move in this hospital pajama."
Potter did as he asked, eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation, and for some time, hard breathing and little moans filled the room. After a while, the black boy leaned back for some air.
"Well, handsome?" the blond teased.
"Huh… This was…"
"Outrageous? Disgusting? Dirty?"
"I… I shouldn't have enjoyed it this much."
"And yet you have, darling. May I call you Harry from now on?"
"What… what about my question?"
"Oh… back to business, are we? You are no fun."
The blond boy sighed.
"It is… easy. As far as my father is a racist, he doesn't have any particular views about homos. He just hates muggles, you see? And he says that pureblood wizards are the most supreme beings ever made. Of course, this justifies anything purebloods do. I mean: anything."
The black-haired boy seemed like he didn't know what to say. "It… it is rather incredible."
"But so it is. I can do anything at all, up until I don't get attached to 'lower beings' emotionally."
"So… are you saying that you aren't allowed to love mudbloods, but you are allowed to make love to them?"
"Yep! I can do anything I want. And he simply doesn't care, whether what I want is consensual or non-consensual, with boys or girls, teachers or students, purebloods or mudbloods. Not to mention magical beasts, Squibs, muggles, half-bloods, quarter-bloods and three-quarter-bloods... Which includes you, by the way."
"Uh. It must be… hard for you."
"Yes, I am very hard right now, thank you."
"I mean…"
"Oh, you love it mean, naughty boy?"
The black-haired boy stood up, frightened.
"That's enough" he said. "I got for what I came. Goodbye, Malfoy. Get well soon, and all that crap."
"But I haven't came yet! Come back! Come back at once! Do you think you can just go like…"
The door slam swallowed the end of his sentence. The blond boy blinked for some seconds at the door, and he lied back.
Hah, he thought. Potter was surprisingly unexperienced for a celeb. But brave like a true Gryffindor, nevertheless.
Maybe, just maybe, something has started. Maybe the black-haired boy will come back later. And then, he thought, I will have another scalp.
And a very interesting one, too.