Word Count: 939

Genre: Humour, romance

Prompts: Hickeys

Summary: In which Harry is a terrible, terrible liar.

Harry fiddled with the corners of his book, anxious fingers rubbing over the old, dry pages. Ron didn't take much notice of his strange behaviour as he devoured some sausages — Hermione, on the other hand, did.

'Harry,' She began curiously, 'what's that on your neck?' For once, Harry wished he had longer hair; Hermione wouldn't have had this problem. He felt heat rush up his neck as soon as the words hit. He kept his head bowed, pretending to focus on the words on the page, but suddenly they appeared foreign.

'What — what thing on my neck?' It was pointless to play dumb, but Harry couldn't stop himself before he said it. Hermione clearly fought the instinct to raise her eyebrows.

She pointed at it, but Harry's situation only got worse when she gasped.

'Good Lord, Harry!' said Ron, glancing up from his plate, 'What happened to you?'

All along Harry's exposed neck, random patches of scarlet and hints of violet traced over the pale that was his skin. Harry bowed his head more to the point of his glasses nearly falling off his face.

'I — er — mosquitoes, you know,' He nearly scoffed at his own excuse. 'It's summer, don't look at me like that!'

But despite his demand, both Ron and Hermione could not stop glaring, mystified at their best friend. Before either of them could interject, a familiar shadow loomed over Harry's head.

'Potter,' Malfoy cleared his throat. Harry couldn't suppress an embarrassing voice crack as he greeted him back. Stifling a laugh, Malfoy turned to Harry's friends, grudgingly nodding. 'Granger, Weasley.'

Nobody had to peer too close to see similar patches trailing over Malfoy's neck, too. Harry could see Ron silently hope it was coincidence, but Hermione had already mapped out the situation from the start. She smiled.

'Hi, Mosquito,' Hermione waved.

Ron very nearly, and ironically, choked to death on his sausage, hiccuping once his throat was clear. Harry's entire face lit up red. Malfoy stared at her, puzzled.

'Poor insult, Granger,' said Malfoy, evidently only thinking she had only referred to him as an insect. Harry had told him to try to be civil with his friends, so he should've been less surprised when Malfoy didn't throw a worse insult at Hermione.

'If only you'd suck around longer,' Harry muttered. Ron began crying with laughter. 'Stuck! Stuck around longer, stuck, not —'

Even Hermione was in muffled hysterics now, clapping a hand to her mouth. Malfoy shook his head as Harry grabbed the nearest cold glass to him, which, to his utmost loathing, was a glass of milk — it wasn't because he hated the taste, it was more because —

'Oh, Harry, don't give Malfoy ideas,' Hermione sighed mockingly.

— that.

Ron, at this point, had nearly fallen off his seat. Malfoy looked ready to collapse with embarrassment, clenching his fists to refrain from saying anything out of order. It was Harry's turn to choke, spluttering as he mentally made a vow to never drink milk in public again.

'— and there are the other ideas.' Hermione added conversationally at Harry's failed attempt at swallowing the liquid. 'Well, I'm glad you two have got your night planned out. Just use the Silencing Charm, please.' She said calmly, gathering her books, most likely for the library.

'Or just go to the Slytherin common room instead. I'm sure dungeons are more — oh, I don't know — exciting.' Now that she'd started, Harry wasn't sure Hermione'd ever stop. 'No one will miss the sounds of you forming mosquito bites at night.'

Ron was literally rolling on the floor now, and several Gryffindors raised an eyebrow at him before continuing. 'I mean, imagine Snape's face when —'

'My face when what, Miss Granger?' Ron had stopped laughing. Hermione's cheeks became slightly pink, and Malfoy and Harry had started rubbing at their necks.

'It — it doesn't matter, Professor,' Hermione murmured.

'You said my name, therefore it must concern me.' Snape said in a bored drawl. 'Go on, what was it that you were so eager to say before I arrived?' As he said this, Ron stumbled back into his seat as some kind of stall.

'Oh, don't be angry at her,' said Ron, 'things could be worse. I mean, your favourite student might be having regular sex with Harry Potter only so many feet away from you, so —'

'Weasley!' Both Malfoy and Snape snapped.

'Oh look, you've found him guilty.' Ron gestured to Malfoy, who had definitely regretted shouting when he could've kept himself perfectly quiet. 'Well, at least sex is a good form of exercise —'

'I'm sure you're highly experienced in that department to tell me such information,' sneered Snape.

'As experienced as you, sir,' Ron grinned. All he had to do now was stick his middle finger up and he'd be expelled, Harry was sure of it.

All Harry heard within the next few seconds were phrases like "detention for a week" and "thirty-five points from Gryffindor", but Ron decided it was very worth it, despite being a prefect.

'So what did you want to say?' Harry said in a whisper to Malfoy as Hermione and Ron giggled away hopelessly. Malfoy leaned over to his ear.

'Tonight.' was all he muttered before pressing a kiss to Harry's lips and drawing himself away to his own table. Hermione and Ron paused abruptly.

'Oh look,' Ron rolled his eyes, 'Harry, there's a mosquito bite on your lips.'