Author's Note: I've been looking ALL OVER fanfiction for a certain Harry/Draco story. If you read this synopsis and know what it is, PLEASE tell me. I've been craving to re-read it. If you don't read Harry/Draco, then ignore this next part.
Harry and Draco don't know they're homosexual—but a series of weekly truth or dare type-games, conducted by Pansy and Hermione, reveal the astonishing truth. Throughout the year, the dares get progressively more explicit and less comfortable for Harry and Draco…and so they "practise" without knowing what to expect, finally going all the way (with the blessing of Seamus Finnegan, Harry's only gay friend). Through tutoring-sessions in dungeons, many trips to the Room of Requirement, and more-than-studious tutoring sessions, these boys find their true sexualities…and their true natures.
Okay…done. Thanks. :
Warning: This chapter is a little bit more frisky than the rest. I'm a little bit frustrated today. Yeah. Be warned.
Disclaimer: Yeah…Daniel Radcliffe still lurks in my room. A poster of him, at least. Hey, a girl can dream…swoons. Only Tom Felton could make this better.
Chapter 4: Hardest Part
"Mmm…I've always fancied dating a teacher," Ginny said breathily, crossing her legs and leaning back on the desk. Even before going to the Great Hall for breakfast, she had gone to visit Harry in his new office. He was arranging books and reading snippets of paragraphs, trying to decide what to teach, when she had walked in and noisily shut the door behind her.
Harry walked over to her immediately, pulling onto her waist and lifting her head up to his. He kissed her on the cheek, nose, and ear, teasing her to see what she would do. Ginny gave Harry the reaction he was looking for—roughly slamming her mouth onto his and wetting his lips with her tongue. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead gave an invitation for a deeper kiss. She undid the ties to his robes with great ease, moving on to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt.
Harry pulled away, evidently embarrassed that his office would be…christened…in such a way. "Gin, not now. I am not going to let you waste your first time—our first time—on Snape's old desk."
Ginny immediately stopped, resenting the visual and sneering at Harry. "At least give me ten points for snogging you senseless, Professor," she pulled on his tie and brought her face close to his annunciating 'snog' and 'professor' in a most unbearable way. Unbearable for Harry, of course, being a seventeen-year-old male.
He gave in.
"Twenty, if you do that again."
Draco sat at the Slytherin table and scowled. And the rest of the Slytherins scowled back. Even Pansy, Blaise, and those oafs, Crabbe and Goyle, were making it a point to whisper darkly amongst themselves and glance his way. He spooned his cinnamon porridge glumly, all of a sudden losing his appetite.
Last night was humiliating enough, why should he have to go through this now? He was a Malfoy, Merlin's beard, he should be respected (if not worshipped) by these people! A bad taste formulated in his mouth as he thought about his Veritaserum "reveal" with Slughorn the previous night—complete with numerous pints of mead, several different Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products, and the entire Slytherin House.
"Not so much like your grandfather, are you?" Slughorn began, pulling a vial of clear liquid and a dropper out of his coat pocket. The dungeons roared with laughter as Slughorn pretended to spill the whole contents of the bottle into Draco's mouth.
"Get on with it," Draco said gruffly, doing his best not to cry. Or have an accident.
"Eh, eh, eh, M'boy. Take what comes when I decide it does." He paused for a moment, looking at Draco's frightened expression, but proceeded.
"It's only Veritaserum, it won't hurt a bit! I'm only giving you a small dosage, three drops or so…which should last for a little less than an hour."
That was supposed to be reassuring? Draco thought, squeezing his eyes shut and reluctantly ingesting the potion. He re-opened his eyes, a glazed and far-away look masking his usually handsome face.
"What is your name?" Slughorn tested the potions effects.
"Draconis Vulcane Malfoy," he said clearly, in a bland, monotone voice.
"Okay, Mr. Malfoy, let's go on. Were you, in fact, one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers? A Death Eater, that is to say?"
"Yes and no."
"Elaborate, please," Slughorn looked nervously around the room, eyeing Theodore Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Thomas Avery. If they were the friends Draco said they were, this was going to be a long night.
"I do have the Dark Mark, but he altered the Protean Charm to alert me only when he needed me. I never attended his meetings, I didn't work with any other Death Eaters, and I'd never even seen him." Draco closed his mouth and blinked.
The Potions-master stuttered. "Er…erm…then who gave you instructions?"
"It was almost always Aunt Bella or Amycus. Sometimes, MacNair or Nott came, because they're friends of my father's."
"Bellatrix Lestrange?"
"Yes."
"So…eh…were you in contact with your father at all during last year?"
"Yes. My mother and I visited him from time to time, in Azkaban. Dementors don't have ears, you know, so I could talk to him about the Dark Lord's plans without being overheard. My mother distracted the rest of the prisoners while I spoke to him. He attempted to kill himself, because he felt as if he had caused this," Draco said, his face still expressionless.
"Was it his fault? Is that what You-Know-Who said?"
"Yes. Aunt Bella told me that my father had blundered, and that the Dark Lord was going to make him pay."
"What did your mother feel about this?"
"She cried most of the time. She was upset at my father, but more at Aunt Bella."
It was apparent that Slughorn was a little bit more than uncomfortable. Viewing the Slytherin's bored or shocked faces, he began asking questions that Draco definitely wouldn't have answered in any fully-conscious state.
"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, has your cherry beenpopped"
"Yes. Two years ago, with Thomas Avery's sister," he said blandly, though Avery looked like he would kill the boy. Laughter erupted from the Slytherins, who were just beginning to pass around the Butterbeer and Mead.
"And how about your…er…thwapping habits?"
The whole room went silent, craning their necks to properly hear Draco's response. This was the age old "ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies" query.
"Morgan le Faye's chocolate frog card, Celestina Warbeck, and pictures of the Holyhead Harpies."
"Hey, me too!" Crabbe interjected, the rest of the Slytherins immediately looking at him and rolling on the floor with laughter. This simply egged Slughorn on, to the point of asking the one question that nobody had dared to ask…in fear of being killed.
"So, Draco, is it true you have a picture of Ginevra Weasley in your underwear drawer?"
"Yes."
"Ifschwick 'ill oad. Iashoo gooschars ihaay!" Ginny said thickly, ripping pieces of buttered toast and stuffing them into her mouth. She swallowed. "I'll be late for Charms if I don't go now. Thanks for the breakfast, Hermione!" she waved at the departing three, walking off and managing to trip on her still un-hemmed robes along the way. She braced herself for the fall, and hoped that a simple healing spell would do the trick.
Instead of the cold, marble floors that covered most of the Hogwarts castle, Ginny landed in the arms of a green-clad figure. With my luck, it's Draco Malfoy, and he's going to drop me. One…two…thr—
"I always seem to be meeting you at your worst, Ginevra, we really should stop running into each other like this," he said haugtily, looking considerably less powerful with his clique of gawking Slytherins not present.
"Funny, I was just looking forward to run into you, as you so eloquently said. I was thinking 'Hey, Ginny, let's go find the boy who's father cursed you through You-Know-Who's old diary, and attempt to knock him over! Maybe we could even try a couple of hexes, yeah? I'm sure he would appreciate that! And if you're lucky, he'll invite his Death Eater pals if you really piss him off!'" Ginny picked up her discarded bag and started walking, tossing her auburn hair and trying to avoid Malfoy's gaze.
He reached out a hand and clamped it onto her shoulder, spinning her around and giving her his trademark "smouldering gaze." The kind that brought girls to his bed, every single one without fail. How could it not happen with the Weaslette? Sure, she was a beauty—with soft, milky skin that he could touch for hours, deep, dark brown eyes that seared his skin and bore into his mind, a girlish, budding chest, heart-shaped mouth, red as a cherry (Oh Merlin, cherry)…and her hair. That irresistable, velveteen mane that he had teased for four years, but secretly adored. Of course she'll fall for it. This always works.
It didn't work.
Sooner than he had fantasized her between his emerald-colour sheets, Ginny Weasley had broken out of Draco's grasp and was hurrying to Charms.
Soon, Draco, he thought to himself, soon.
"Hinkypunks! Would anyone mind telling me what they are and what they do?" Harry said brightly to a group of second-years. A small brunette rose her hand immediately, practially jumping out of her seat. She had very sharp features; a prominent, straight nose, big, blue eyes, and healthy-looking, tanned skin.
"Yes, Ms…"
"McClaine. Aphelia McClaine, Professor."
"Alright, Aphelia, please go on. And call me Harry. Unless McGonagall is around." He winked, the second-year girls giving a collective sigh.
"Thanks, Harry," she looked positively delighted, "Hinkypunks are a type of water creature that aim to mislead travelers crossing the marshes and wetlands where they reside. They are pink in colour, and have a lantern-shaped protrusion on their heads, in order to further confuse these travelers," Aphelia said in one breath.
"Y-yes, exactly," Harry was amazed, and the small girl smirked at her envious friends, "Ms. McClaine, I think you should go speak to a friend of mine—"
"Hermione Granger?" she said at once, looking more excited than ever.
"Yes, Hermione. I think you both will find quite a bit in common." Turning back to the class, he completed his lecture in time for the lunch bell. "Hinkypunks can be temporarily stunned with Rictusempra, slightly wounded with Relashio, and of course, can be ki…" he trailed off, remembering who he was talking to.
"Alright," he said in the same bright voice as before, "I think that's enough for today. See you all tomorrow."
The students noisily packed their things and rushed out of the room—but not without waving to Harry and gazing at him with misty eyes.
Ginny, having ran from Charms, entered the room with a slight rasp in her throat. Panting, she hugged Harry from behind. "They, sir, are smitten. And so am I." She kissed him lightly on the neck, and lay her head on his shoulder. "Come down to lunch with me?"
"Er…Ginny…Professor McGonagall—Minerva, she insists I call her—has asked me to sit at the Staff Table."
"Oh," Ginny said in an oddly high-pitched voice, "I-it's quite alright. I'm sure you all have Professor things to talk about, then." She walked to the Ravenclaw table and plopped down by Luna Lovegood, ignoring Ron and Hermione's rapid hand motions.
Harry looked at them and shrugged, making his way up to his new lunch-area. As he approached the table, the teachers appreciatively clapped Harry on the back and made room for him in chairs they conjured next to them, on the spot.
"Okay, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's clear, Scottish twang appeared from nowhere, "I'm giving you time-table duty. You will see to it that all of the Gryffindors have been correctly placed into the classes that are appropriate for them. Be especially careful with this year's N.E.W.T. students—they are most at risk of attempting to take courses that they are not prepared for. Report any and all schedule changes to either Professor Flitwick or myself, we shall see to it that all goes correctly."
Harry groaned. This was going to be a long lunch time…and not because of the good food.
Draco's stomach growled violently, but he dared not venture into the Great Hall for a meal. Nott would kill him for certain…and the desserts served today were cherry tart, cherry sorbet, and cherry marmalade- filled eclaires. Why was the whole world against him today?
He sat in the corridor, talking only to himself and a wheezing suit of armor, but secretly wished that somebody would find him. A female somebody with red hair and freckles.
"Honestly, Ron, if I say nothing's the matter…then NOTHING'S THE MATTER!"
His wish came true.
"Ginny, come on…"
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you don't get out of my sight at this very moment, I will place a very powerful…and painful…rendition of Reducio in the region that you least need it.," Ginny said sweetly, sending Ron running back into the Great Hall.
She slumped against a nearby wall, sitting down the same way that Draco did—not knowing that he was merely feet away.
He turned to face her without revealing his presence."Nice day, innit, Little Red?"
Ginny bit back a scream when she recognized the drawl. "Not you, again! Don't you have some first years to terrorize?"
"Nope. I'm all yours."
"Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic."
Author's Note: Eeeeee! I updated. It's not so long this time, but it's all I could crank out for now. School work is heavy this time of year, having just gotten back from summer hols…so please, bear with me. This should have been a little bit more interesting; the tension between Draco and Ginny is building up! (whether Ginny realises it or not). And I promise, more action later on.
Next Time, on Square One:
-The first Hogsmeade trip of the school year (this one will be exciting…to read and to write)
-More Draco/Ginny liasons
-Hopefully, some Ron and Hermione reactions, added to the schoolwide Draco-hatred!
-Pansy gets her revenge. For what, you ask? We'll find out…
PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, review?
I'll hold chapter 5 hostage if I'm not getting very many. Yes, I've resorted to that.
I'm a review hoard...what do you expect?
Again, pleeeease spend 10 seconds to 1 minute and write something...pleaaaase?
I love you?