Disclaimer:Yep. I'm totally J.K, masquerading as a 25 y/o man on a fanfic website…
Warnings:Slash (if that needs to be stated…), 8th-year fic (aka EWE), uncontrollable erections.
Summary: It's 8th Year and Harry's discovered his libido for the first time. Draco Malfoy wants to get to know Harry, but he gets more than he bargained for. Meanwhile, there are people in the world who were not happy with the way the war ended.
Chapter 4: It's a Party!
Draco put the finishing touches on his notes from Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was sitting at his usual table in the 8th Year common room, using the break to organize his thoughts from that morning's class; he always liked to stay on top of his studies, and this year he planned to beat out Granger for top marks.
He looked at the clock hanging on the wall and was pleased to see that forty minutes still remained before lunch. 'Good,' he thought. 'That leaves me time to talk to Granger.'
Both the bushy-haired girl and Potter looked up when he approached their seating area. Draco felt a smug satisfaction when he saw the boy's face flush scarlet. Neither of them had mentioned the incident in the library the day before, but every time the two of them came in close proximity of each other, Potter blushed and Draco felt smug. He'd noticed the boy's constant shifting in his seat when he was around Draco, surely attempting to alleviate his 'hard' to control problem. In fact, Draco noticed with a smirk, he was squirming right now, his book carefully shielding his crotch from view.
Draco had to bring his thoughts back to the task at hand. "Granger," he said congenially. She smiled at him, gesturing to the empty armchair situated around their low table. He sat in it with thoughtless grace, appearing as comfortable as if he had spent his whole life sitting down for chats with the girl.
"I had an idea, a way to get the year started," he said, once he was properly comfortable.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, glancing at Potter to see if he was okay with Draco being here. Potter was currently pretending to be invisible.
"How about we host a party for the 7th and 8th years?" he asked and watched her eyes light up at the thought. "Only students who are of age of course."
"Draco, I think it's a wonderful idea!" she exclaimed. Draco's eyes widened and after a millisecond, so did hers, shocked at her boldness in using his first name. She looked at Potter again who, this time, was not pretending he wasn't there. His mouth was hanging down into his lap and he turned to look at the blonde with apprehension.
Draco decided not to make a big deal out of it. After all, if he were going to chase after Potter somehow, they would all eventually need to be on a first name basis anyway.
"Don't worry about it," he said genially. "Perhaps it would be better, in the interest of getting over past feuds, to dispense with all the surname nonsense and call each other by our given names. May I call you Hermione?"
Her entire demeanor changed in an instant, going from a timid, apologetic stance back to her bubbly self. A large smile split her face, showing off perfect, straight white teeth.
"Of course you may!" she gushed, obviously pleased with this new turn of events. Hermione had always been a proponent of House unity, and if Gryffindors and Slytherins could get along, then certainly the rest of the school could.
Draco smiled back, unintentionally becoming caught up in her enthusiasm. He turned to the quiet boy seated next to him and choked back a snort; Potter's mouth was still hanging open. When he felt Draco's eyes on him, he quickly shut it and looked back warily. Draco continued smiling.
"How about you?" he asked. "Can you call my by anything other than my last name or Ferret Face?"
Harry smirked at that but still hesitated. Draco decided to push, extending his hand in the same gesture that had sent them down the path to enmity. He prayed to Merlin for a better result this time.
"Draco," he said, gazing expectantly at the brunette, hand still extended.
Finally, the boy reached out and clasped his hand. "Harry," he said in a low voice, a slight blush creeping up his neck. Draco smiled brightly, finally getting what he'd agonized over for seven years – a second chance.
He was amazed by his own reaction. He felt light and free, happy and hopeful. He could feel the future opening up to him, and it was a heady sensation. Draco sat back in the chair, lost in thought for a while. He didn't notice the looks he received from both Hermione and Harry. Nor did he notice the look they shared between them. They may not truly know exactly how huge a moment this was for him, but they certainly knew that it was major. As such, they left him to his thoughts until he reconciled himself with his shift in thought.
He was really free. Free to do whatever he wanted in life. Oh yes, the Ministry had granted him a pardon from his crimes and all that rot, but it didn't mean much from an institution people had lost faith in. He'd been underage when things happened in his 6th year, and he and his family had ultimately made the right choice in the final moments.
Until this moment, he never truly felt like he'd be able to live the full life he'd always dreamt of. Because Harry Potter had agreed to forgive him. Or, at least work towards forgiving him, opening up all sorts of possibilities for the two of them.
Smiling, Draco restarted his discussion with Hermione about the party, excited for the chance to let loose with others and for once not have the worries of war, shame, and exile hanging about.
Harry and Ron were discussing the Cannons' chances of landing the newest international sensation at the Seeker position, Igor Kovalevskii. He was on the Russian National Team and had won the most recent World Cup, capturing the snitch three hours into the game while the score was still tied 0-0. Ron, ever the optimist, thought that his team had a great chance at the prospect. Harry knew better, but he let his best mate keep dreaming.
"Draco," Harry heard from ahead of them where the blonde and Hermione were still talking about the party. Ron's head snapped forward, an expression of horror upon his face from hearing her dare to utter such a vile name. "Would you care to join us for lunch? We might be able to finish planning for the party, and then we can set preparations in motion."
Ron stopped walking suddenly and Harry tripped over his foot, crashing to the floor in spectacular fashion. They rest of the group in front of them stopped walking and turned around to see Harry lying on the floor and Ron standing there, red-faced and trying his best to form a sentence without any luck.
"Did—did you…did you just…?" he spluttered, failing to communicate his absolute confusion, though his facial expression and stiff posture said enough.
"Yes, Ronald, I 'just'," Hermione spat venomously, surprising everyone with her cold tone. "And if you have a problem with it, you can take your 1st year attitude, go back to Gryffindor tower, and sulk like a baby. Now grow up and get over your childish and unwarranted bigotry, dammit!"
Harry was shocked, but his surprise was nothing like that of the Slytherins who had joined Draco in their group. Never in all his days at Hogwarts had Harry seen all three of these Slytherins show this much emotion. He couldn't help it; he giggled.
Six heads turned to look at him (Ginny had arrived at the beginning of Hermione's shouting), confusion etched upon their faces.
"I'm sorry," he wheezed, "It's just, just—" he caught sight of the three Slytherins now wearing identical looks of incredulity over Harry's laughter and burst into another round of giggles.
"Seriously, Harry," Hermione said with a frown. "This is no laughing matter."
Harry reigned in his mirth. "I know, I know. I wasn't laughing at you. Did you see their faces?" He pointed at the Slytherin trio, chuckling again and their collective affronted look. "I've never seen a group of Slytherins rendered so utterly speechless before. Good on you, Hermione"
Hermione's mouth hitched into a small smile that she tried her best to smother, Ron seemed to deflate and Harry decided to end this argument here and now. He clasped both Ron and Hermione's shoulders and herded them into the Great Hall, smirking when they bumped shoulders more than was strictly necessary when walking next to someone.
"You lot coming?" he asked, turning his head back to wear the others were still standing. Draco, after shaking his head to free himself of the disbelief that Hermione Granger had stood up for him, raised his chin haughtily in a manner reminiscent of times passed, and quickly caught up to Harry. Blaise, Pansy, and Ginny rejoined the group a moment later, and then the seven students walked into the Hall and over to the Gryffindor table as one.
Harry grinned as heads turned. The rumor mill was going to be working overtime today.
Draco spoke momentarily with Professor Slughorn before turning his usual workbench in the Potions classroom. He'd chosen this seat during his first year very carefully. It was in the least drafty spot in the room, thus ensuring a steady flame and constant temperature. It was away from the paths to the main door and the supply closet, therefore meaning there was less chance of his cauldron being upset. It was, to say it simply, his spot.
So when Harry immediately made a beeline for said workbench, Draco followed with a frown. Pansy decided to pair up with Hermione, Blaise was sitting with Ginny (who had somehow convinced both Lupin and McGonagall to place her in the 8th year sections of her classes), and Ron had dropped Potions the minute he was able, so it seemed fairly obvious with the newly forming group dynamic that Harry pair with Draco. But he could not take his seat!
"Budge up, Harry," he said, setting his bag down on the table in front of where the Gryffindor was seated. He saw Harry's amused smirk at his predictability but chose not to comment on it. Their burgeoning friendship was tenuous at best still, and he didn't want to risk anything going amiss today. They were making the Lip-loosening draught and he wanted a perfect result. He had plans in the making.
"As you all know," Slughorn was saying, "Veritaserum is the most powerful truth potion there is. It forces those who ingest it to answer any direct question honestly. However, it does not force them to speak truths that are not asked for." Harry was scratching away his parchment, writing down what the professor said, verbatim. Draco, though, had memorized this potion and was ready to make it.
"There is another, less powerful serum called the Lingua Probitas potion, or the Lip-loosening Draught. This potion, unlike Veritaserum, does not force the truth from the the drinker. Instead, it makes the truth seem like the most reasonable thing to say and encourages one to be as open as possible. Also unlike Veritaserum, Lingua Probitas generally goes unnoticed unless one knows one has taken it."
"For instance, I am aware that I have taken a very small dose and that it is due to the potion that I find myself wanting to tell you how dreadfully difficult this potion is. It requires much prep work, constant stirring, and carefully timed addition of each of the 23 ingredients at precise 46 second intervals." Slughorn chuckled, "Had I not taken the potion, I would have simply said to work quickly in pairs and you can finish before class ends. Oh well, they say honesty is the best quality. Begin working."
The class looked daunted by the professor's speech (and clearly unimpressed by his poor attempt at humour), but immediately jumped into action, setting up their cauldrons with a steeping chamomile broth, the base of the potion that needed to simmer for at least an hour and strained before any of the rest of the ingredients were added. Draco charged Harry with this task, not trusting that he would be careful to gather only the best of the ingredients.
He let Harry handle the crushing and pulping of the more hardy ingredients while preparing the more delicate ones himself. He'd seen Harry's work in the past and had no intentions of using shoddily sliced ingredients in his potion. His plan and his grade depended on perfection.
Once the hour was up, Draco organized everything in the order that they were to be added to the mixture. It was time to begin.
"Okay, you're going to stir," he said. Harry nodded and picked up the stirring rod. "Remember, it's three and a quarter clockwise stirs and one full anti-clockwise stir at half the speed."
"I do read, you know," Harry responded, attempting to pin Draco with a mock glare that fail entirely due to his lips forcibly pulling themselves into a smile. Briefly, their gazes locked and both of them felt a thrill of excitement run through them. Draco hesitated a moment before reaching out and placing his hand on top of the hand Harry was holding the stirrer with.
"Perhaps I ought to show you," Draco said breathily, cheeks tinged pink and he kept his eyes trained on their hands, which was hard enough but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to look Harry in the eyes.
Harry gave a "hmm" in affirmative and allowed his hand to be guided in the proper motion through the simmering liquid. Both of them ignored the furious whispering and muffled giggles coming from Pansy and Hermione behind them.
Precisely eighteen minutes later, the potion had finally turned a dark brown and was set to boil until it lightened to a pale yellow that was very nearly clear. Once it had, Draco doused the fire and collected a sample to be turned in. He asked Harry to turn in their finished potion and, while he was gone, filled an extra vile and pocketed it for later use.
The next evening, Harry was two very strong drinks in, sprawled out on a couch in the middle of the room with his half-empty third drink balanced precariously on his thigh, only one finger separating him from a wet lap. He looked around and admired the decorations that had gone up throughout the day.
Led by Draco and Hermione, a group of 7th and 8th year students that included Pansy, Blaise, and Ginny had spent hours preparing for the party. They'd received permission from Headmistress McGonagall and, with the help of the House Elves, enlarged the East Tower common room until it was nearly twice its original size.
Streamers hung from the ceiling, all of the House colours mixing together in a bright display of unity. The House Elves provided copious amounts of finger foods, and the Slytherins procured a rather hefty supply of firewhiskey. Someone, a Gryffindor Harry assumed, managed to acquire the fizzy Muggle drink, Coke.
Harry sat up suddenly and, after a few seconds to regain his equilibrium, downed the rest of his drink. He heard someone yell out the suggestion of a game of Truth or Dare and decided he needed to be more sloshed if he was going to play. He tried to stand and decided it wasn't the best decision, sinking back down into the cushion.
"Would you like me to get you another drink?" Draco offered, and Harry, to pissed to even put any thought into his response, readily agreed. Ron looked flabbergasted that Harry would allow the Slytherin to make him a drink, but he just waved the red-head off. He was getting a drink without having to get up and that was good enough for him.
Once everyone, including Harry, was situated with fresh drinks, the game began.
"First," Hermione said, "Remember our rule for tonight's party: No bringing up the War." Everyone nodded and Pansy started things off, daring Neville to hop on one foot while singing the school song. It was uproariously funny and the game continued from there, remaining fairly innocent for the first hour or so, until everyone had finished their first drink of the game and started on their second. Harry had accidentally admitted to being gay, something he attributed to the alcohol and the sense of safety he felt with his friends. Luckily, everyone took it well.
When Harry finished watching Ginny and Blaise making out for nearly a minute, he knew that things were about to get interesting. Pansy asked Harry if he was into anyone to which he answered yes, smirking wickedly. When pressed for details, he gave nothing away, but Pansy had a feeling she knew who his eyes were being drawn to. Draco was seated next to her and she had felt like she was being stared at the entire night, so often had Harry's attention wandered this way.
On his fifth drink, Harry was feeling mischievous so he turned to Hermione and leered at her before saying, "I dare you to sit on Ron's lap for the rest of the game."
The whole group roared with laughter, seeing Hermione blush and hide her face in her hands while Ron turned into a tomato. He really was the most Gryffindor with his emotions. Hell, he made Harry look like a Slytherin in comparison. Hermione complied, and once she had settled onto Ron's lap—in as dignified a manner as possible, of course—she pinned Harry down with a truly evil grin.
"Draco," she said slowly without taking her eyes from Harry's, her voice falsely sweet, putting Harry on edge. "I dare you to climb into Harry's lap and make out with him."
Draco sucked in a surprised gasp, but otherwise said nothing. Harry just stared at his friend who was acting far too much like a Slytherin right now. She hadn't been so quick or ruthless in delivering a returning blow, figuratively speaking, since the time she'd slapped then-Malfoy hard enough to leave a mark that lasted for days, magic attempts to vanish it be damned.
Suddenly, Harry felt the cushion he was sitting on dip and snapped his head back to see Draco looming over him while he climbed onto the couch, straddling Harry's legs. Harry looked up into his eyes which were molten silver right now, burning with intense, emotions and completely focused despite the alcohol he had been drinking. The blonde's hair hung down in front of his face, casting his features in shadow. He looked dark and dangerous and bloody gorgeous, and Harry was frozen in his spot on the couch.
"Scared, Potter?" Draco asked with a husky voice. Harry's only response was to gulp and shake his head ever-so slightly.
Draco leaned down towards Harry, pausing for a moment and then whispering in Harry's ear, "I've wanted to do this for a very long time." And then he cupped Harry's face in his hands and touched their lips together, kissing him gently.
All of Harry's tension and nerves melted away to be replaced with a small, but growing, sense of warmth that grew steadily until it engulfed his whole body. It started feeling a little too warm, urging him to have more, and he reached up and pulled Draco's head down, forcefully deepening the kiss. He opened his mouth to Draco's prodding tongue and felt the heat rushing to pool in his groin, his cock swiftly swelling to full size and bulging against the tightness of his jeans.
Feeling desperate for more contact, Harry's hands shifted to Draco's hips and, of their own accord, pulled the blonde's hips into his own. When he felt Draco's hardness against his own, he let out a groan and impulsively ground his hips up into Draco's, reveling in the feel of the other man's arousal.
Both were lost to the world and never noticed Hermione cast a privacy ward, filling it in until it was an opaque shield blocking them from view. Harry only noticed the primal need to keep doing this, the licking, sucking, biting, thrusting. He distantly noticed the whimpering noises Draco was making and they only spurred him on.
He grabbed Draco by the shoulders, flipped him onto his back on the couch and re-initiated the kiss, lying atop the blonde, thus creating an even greater friction. They started to get frantic with their motions, never breaking the kiss to breathe properly. Suddenly, with an almost tortured moan, Draco pulled away as his orgasm took control of his body, making him shake with waves of pleasure beneath Harry. That sight was all it took for Harry to find his own completion and, with a roar to make any Gryffindor proud, let his climax rip through him. He bit down on Draco's neck, still grinding into him as he rode out his orgasm.
When they were both quite sated, they fell asleep that way, with Harry still where he collapsed after he'd finished. They never knew that the privacy ward had only blocked sight, not sounds from their tryst. They were also unaware of being levitated back to Harry's bedroom by Hermione.
In his drunken, potion-affected slumber, Harry's peaceful nights since the end of the war came to an abrupt halt. He'd been dreaming about warmth and blonde things when he was suddenly dragged from that dream and dumped in another.
. . .
His dream self was standing in a cold, dark room with an eerie blue fire roaring the grate. It served to provide a marginal amount of light, but instead of providing warmth, the magical fire seemed to be sucking all of the warmth out of the room, as well as any happiness. He looked around, aware of the fact that he was dreaming. He tried to memorize his surroundings, but the light hardly reached the high-backed chair sitting in front of the fire.
Harry had an idea who he would find sitting in that seat, a wizard he hadn't seen in his dreams in months. He wasn't particularly thrilled with this reminder of darker days, but he stepped forward anyway, moving around so that he could see who it was.
Sure enough there sat Voldemort, face as snakey as ever. On her knees in front of him was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry could see an angry red scar still healing on the side of her neck where her throat lay bare, as if offering her life to the Dark Lord should he wish it. Harry could tell from that scar that this was right after his 5th year, when Voldemort must have rescued his Death Eaters from Azkaban. She'd earned that scar from Sirius while they were dueling. After Sirius had fallen through the veil, when Harry had been screaming and seething in anger, he'd seen her neck bleeding profusely and wanted to open it further and watch it bleed until her life flowed out of her with the blood. It was then that he'd cast the Cruciatus curse.
So this was in the past, which meant Harry wasn't having a vision and that Voldemort was not somehow still alive. As Harry watched, the dead evil madman continued to just stare at the offered neck while Bellatrix remained perfectly still, only the shallow rise and fall of her chest giving any indication that she was not dead. Finally, Voldemort broke the silence.
"Bella," he cooed, almost affectionate. Harry shuddered at the image when Riddle reached forward and carefully caressed her cheek with his finger, careful to not slice her open with his talon-like fingernails.
"Yes, my lord?" she replied eagerly. Harry thought her attitude had always been beyond the simple madness of following the Dark Lord because she believed in him so much. It had always seemed like she felt something deeper, perhaps even a twisted sense of love, toward him.
"You have proven time and again that you are my most obedient and loyal servant," Voldemort spoke with a near-permanent hiss. "Yet I have always placed someone ahead of you in my ranks as my most trusted servant. Whether Lucius, Severus, or Greyback, you have always been relegated to second place."
She looked at him quizzically but Riddle hardly noticed as he was staring at something unseen by anyone else. Harry could tell what was bothering him though; he was acting in a similar manner to Harry when he had something of great importance on his mind that needed to be shared with someone, yet to do so would put him or that person at greater risk.
"I have been wrong," Voldie spoke again, shocking Harry with his admission. "It was foolish of me to have placed my faith in such unworthy men. Lucius is a greedy and arrogant bastard who took his place as second in command only because of what it would have gained him when I succeeded. It was not out of loyalty to our purpose that he served. He shall be cast back to the ranks of common follower."
"Greyback was also a mistake. His bloodlust interested me, and his sway over the werewolf packs throughout Britain was a great advantage. But his thirst for destruction blinded him to the art of subtlety, and I could never trust him to carry out a mission that needed to be done in private. He couldn't keep himself from killing, messily. So he was caged, like the animal that he is."
"And then there is Severus. He has been a model Death Eater, showing the restraint and respect in my presence that I expect from each of my followers. He is strong and learned in a multitude of magicks, and has a position among the Light side that proves very advantageous. Yet, I find myself having doubts about his loyalty. I can't, of course, simply let him away from my side. He must be kept under careful watch, and his potions mastery is too great a resource to let go."
"So, my dear Bellatrix," Voldemort looked her directly in the eye. "I can see that you are worthy of my trust. Your mind is completely open and I can see how strong your desire to serve me remains."
Harry wanted to gag at the sweetness in Voldemort's voice. It sounded completely out of place coming from such an evil being, but he didn't doubt the Dark Lord's sincerity.
"You will become my second in command. This development, however, must remain between the two of us only. To the rest of my followers, nothing will appear to have changed; you will still be in my Inner Circle. But it will be only you I trust with a new task, one which will require you help to complete. This task is of the utmost importance, and it cannot be completed alone"
Bellatrix's eyes burned with unbridled excitement and zealous passion. Being let in on a secret and knowing she was the only one trusted with the information, not to mention being trusted to help her lord with a task that was clearly of the highest priority. She nodded her head eagerly, conveying her willingness to be entrusted with the Dark Lord's plans.
"Tell me, Bella, what knowledge do you possess about the art of Necromancy?"
. . .
Harry woke with a startled gasp, covered in a clammy film of sweat. Voldemort had been mucking about with Necromancy before he died, and Harry wasn't sure what that meant. He did know, though, that it was likely to be terrible.
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End Chapter 4
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A/N: Thanks for reading, all of you. I'd love it if you decided to let me know what you think, especially now that there is a plot afoot that is sure to become rather convoluted! Reviewing is so easy, it's right there at the bottom! *points* Please let me know if there is anything you'd like to see happen. Maybe, if it fits, I could include it somewhere in the story (crediting you of course).