AN: Hey guys, I apologise for the lack of updatingness! I promise no matter how long it takes I WILL finish this fic XD I hate it when other authors leave their fans high and dry so you can feel reassured that I shall not do that to you.

ENJOY!


Chapter 8

"I would like to study outside today," Pansy announced as she arrived by the desk.

Harry looked up in surprise. "Um, okay?"

"Well come on then," she huffed. "We don't have all day!"

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be sitting outside?" Harry replied with a faint frown.

"That's what warming charms are for." Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," Harry moped, following the peculiar Slytherin out of the library. "So why the sudden urge to be outside?"

"Because I feel like it," Pansy replied bluntly. "I'll focus better if I'm happy." Harry snorted a laugh, earning a dark look from the female. "Shush, Potter," she sniffed. "You're almost as bad as Draco."

"Do we both not take you seriously?" Harry mused with a smile.

"Apparently," Pansy pouted. "So cut it out!"

Harry kept quiet as they exited the castle. The sky above was crystal clear, the sun shining vibrantly. The wind, however, had a bitter chill on its edge and Harry wasted no time in casting a warming charm. Pansy followed suit as she crossed the grassy slope, sitting herself down on the edge of the hill which overlooked the lake. Harry lowered himself opposite her and started pulling out his books.

"Wait," Pansy interrupted.

Frowning, Harry looked at the dark haired female curiously.

"I want to talk to you," she continued, brushing a wayward lock of hair from her face.

"About?"

Pansy shrugged. "Anything."

"Is this another moment where I shouldn't take you seriously?" Harry asked.

Pansy huffed in annoyance. "No. I thought it might be nice to get to know one another properly."

"Don't you hate me?"

"Not anymore."

Harry grinned. "I don't hate you either."

"Good, great start," Pansy sniffed. "Are you gay?"

Harry spluttered. "What?"

"Oh please, Potter," Pansy said disbelievingly. "Your interest in women doesn't even exceed leering at them. My breasts are practically falling out of my shirt and you haven't looked once."

"What if I'm trying to be respectful?"

"Potter, don't be daft. Even respectful males—so to speak—would be caught catching a look at least once. Besides, half of the female population are practically throwing themselves at you and yet I see no girlfriend. You never flirt, ogle, or get nervous around the female species as regular straight men would." Pansy smirked at the bewildered Gryffindor. "But I might have also overheard Weasley informing Longbottom that although you do like men you weren't interested in him."

Harry glowered. "I'm going to kill Ron."

Pansy smiled as she examined her nails. "And before you ask, no, I'm not gay—I am very much into men."

"I'm not sure I'm in the mood to talk anymore," Harry whined.

"Be a man, Potter, people are bound to find out."

"Don't you care?"

"Why would I?" Pansy frowned.

"No reason," Harry said hurriedly. "Okay, um, do you want to become a Death Eater?"

"No," Pansy replied simply. "My father may not have brains nor a backbone but I certainly do."

Harry grinned. "I like that."

"Of course you do, I'm amazing," Pansy said smugly.

"Uh huh…"

"Next question, do you like anyone?"

"Why am I suddenly so interesting?" Harry asked, casually bypassing the question.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Potter," Pansy sighed. "Because I want to get to know you."

"Yeah but who I like and my sexual orientation don't have to be the first things you know," Harry replied with a raise of an eyebrow. "How about questions more like, 'What do you want to do when you leave school?'"

"But that's not interesting," Pansy protested. "I don't even care what I'm going to do after school."

"Don't care?"

"That's right."

"But why?"

Pansy shrugged. "It really depends where the Wizarding World is at that moment."

Harry allowed the snide comment to pass, glancing away as he bit his bottom lip. "I think I'd like to be a Healer…" he offered.

"Really?" Pansy asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Harry smiled gently. "Helping people would make me feel a lot better than hunting them."

"Potter, you softy, are you sure you weren't meant to be a Hufflepuff?" Pansy teased.

"Maybe, although at least I've found my calling," Harry smirked.

"I would have never picked you as a Healer." Pansy cocked her head. "But I can see it I guess."

"Favourite colour?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Funnily enough it's red," Pansy replied in a nonchalant tone. "Yours?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Silver."

Pansy tapped a finger against her lips. "I guess it's redundant to ask what your favourite subject is."

"I'm pretty sure that's world known news."

"Hmm…" Pansy pondered.

"What's your favourite subject?" Harry asked instead.

"Not that I'd ever admit to it but I actually prefer Charms," Pansy replied. "Potions really aren't my strong point and if it wasn't for Draco, I would have failed by now."

"Don't worry, everyone knows I suck at Potions as well," Harry chuckled.

"Potter, you are a Gryffindor, it's natural for you to suck at Potions."

Harry pouted and folded his arms.

"You know you need an Outstanding in Potions to even think about becoming a Healer, yes?" Pansy inquired.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Becoming a Healer was just an idea… I'll never have the grades to become one though."

Pansy eyed him thoughtfully. "What if I were to get you a tutor?"

Harry glanced at her. "Who?" His eyes widened. "Don't even think about it!"

"Draco's the only person capable to ignore your stubbornness and push your grades higher," Pansy commented.

"Yeah by being a fuck-head," Harry grumbled. "Seriously, Parkinson, Malfoy? We can't stand being in the same school as one another let alone have him tutor me."

"What if he would?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if Draco agreed to tutor you? Would you do it?"

Harry pulled a face, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. "God I don't know—it would never happen anyway so what does it matter? As if Malfoy would agree to help me."

Pansy eyed the Gryffindor curiously. The fact that he wasn't interested in Longbottom hadn't been the only thing she'd overheard Weasley mention the other day.

"Just thought it would have been nice," Pansy said instead.

"I don't understand why everyone is so intent on making Malfoy and me friends," Harry grumbled. "If it was meant to be we would have become friends straight away but Malfoy was too stuck up for that to be possible."

"Don't worry about that, Draco always did have trouble accepting the fact that he didn't always get what he wanted," Pansy replied. "Do you realise how much that crushed, Draco? To have the Great Harry Potter cast him aside for a Weasley; he's never gotten over it."

"Woe is him then," Harry grumbled.

"Just think about it, will you?" Pansy persisted. "Draco doesn't hate you anymore and although his attitude is similar to yours I think it would be… beneficial to the both of you."

"Until Malfoy can prove to me that he can actually care about another being I really have nothing to say to him," Harry replied.

Pansy sighed internally but nodded. "Keep an open mind, its second nature for Draco to be defensive."

"So I've seen," Harry moped. "He gets along with you alright, he even smiles at you."

"Because I've known Draco since before Hogwarts," Pansy replied patiently. "Give it some time."

"More like an eternity," Harry grumbled. "So are we going to study at all or did you drag me outside just so you could snoop?"

Pansy smirked. "A bit of both."

"So do you fancy anyone here?" Harry shot back, startling the Slytherin slightly.

"Not that I can recall," she said, tilting her head to peer up at the sky. "Of course all of my plans were ruined when Draco figured out he was gay."

"Do his parents know?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Pansy replied.

"… and they are alright with it?"

Pansy grinned. "The way I heard it, Lucius can't exactly punish his son for something he himself is guilty of."

"Oh god I don't want to know," Harry shuddered. "And his mum?"

"Loves Draco no matter how he lives his life." Pansy smiled gently. "Do you really think Draco would let his parents get in the way of how he wants to live anyway?"

"No," Harry said resentfully. "But then again, Malfoy always gets what he wants."

"Except you."

"Except—" Harry narrowed his eyes. "What are you playing at, Parkinson?"

"… Nothing," Pansy smiled innocently. "Favourite animal?"


Harry's mind was afloat as he tossed his towel over the side of his shower. His afternoon talk with Parkinson had certainly left him drained, with warped ideas and confusion a constant presence in head. He now knew when her birthday was and what she wanted, her ideas on marriage, favourite animal, how many children she wanted and their names, that she was no longer a virgin although after her experience she almost wished she was, what her hobbies included and many, many other facts that were beginning to burst.

The information had been shared though; Parkinson now knew as much about Harry as he did about her. He wasn't sure whether he liked or even understood this new friendship with the Slytherin but until his mind settled he'd just have to accept it.

Turning on the water, Harry waited for it to warm before stepping under the cascade, rivulets coursing down his skin. Goosebumps rose as his body accepted the heat, indulging in the relief that seemed to settle over his shoulders. He ruffled up his hair, soaking it in the stream of water before reaching for his shampoo. The soothing scent relaxed him even further, the lather thick and suds following the rivulets down his body.

Showers are definitely a god send… Harry thought blissfully, enjoying the steady pounding of the spray against his back. He tilted his head to rinse the soap from his hair and scrubbed his hands over his face, keeping it trained on the warm stream as he hand groped for his soap. When his fingers closed over the slippery brick, Harry began to rub it over his skin, his other hand following behind as it scrubbed the soapy texture into thick foam. His hand brushed carelessly over his flaccid cock, the interest in fooling around seeming nowhere in sight. He finished soaping up, standing motionless as he watched the water wash the bubbles down the drain. His mind had calmed thankfully, allowing soft comments to float dazedly through his head about his conversation with Parkinson. There had been something strange with some of her answers but Harry tried not to overthink them—overthinking is what caused his confusion initially.

"Malfoy always gets what he wants."

"Except you."

Harry's eyes opened, gaze fixated on the tiles. There was something entirely wrong with that statement; why would Malfoy want him? Did he want his friendship or something more? What the hell did Parkinson mean…?

Harry sighed, wiping a hand over his face as he leant against the wall. He would have liked to believe that Malfoy desired him, someone as strong and attractive as the blond certainly excited him like nothing else. With intense silver eyes that seemed to change shades depending on Malfoy's mood and a wicked sharp tongue; how Harry wished he wasn't at the other end of the other boy's insults.

Harry's hand unconsciously drifted down his stomach and towards his cock which was beginning to show signs of interest, his fingers gently caressing along the length.

Malfoy's smile was like nothing else, so carefree and natural when he wasn't on guard with his emotions—Harry wondered what the blond would look like whilst being pleasured.

A small groan escaped passed Harry's lips, his fingers curling around his hardening cock.

He imagined Malfoy on his knees before him, eyes like molten silver as they peered up at Harry. His body lean but beautifully shaped with muscle, fingers long and gentle as they would curl around his hard length. His skin wouldn't be as rough as Harry's but soft. His fingers would brush teasingly and Harry would plead for more, begging Malfoy to make him come.

Harry's hand began to stroke faster as his imagination began to take over. He pictured Malfoy leaning closer, mouth parted slightly and breath ghosting over the head of Harry's cock. Harry whimpered softly, watching in his mind's eye as Malfoy's tongue flicked out, tasting the leaking pre-come that glistened on Harry's head. Soft supple lips enclosed over the swollen end, a teasing tongue swirling deliciously over Harry's sensitive skin.

"Yessss," Harry hissed, eyes screwed tightly and hand moving ferociously fast.

Malfoy's mouth inched further down Harry's cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. The brunet imagined Malfoy groaning deeply in his throat and Harry wished he could reach down to entangle his fingers in, what he imagined, Malfoy's silky hair.

The familiar pool of arousal was almost at breaking point and Harry strained to reach it, imagining as he pushed himself further into Malfoy's sinful mouth. Nimble fingers would massage Harry's thighs as he urged Malfoy to slide up and down his shaft, faster and faster and faster…

Harry's back suddenly arched as he hit his climax, waves of intense pleasure rolling over him as he pictured Malfoy swallowing everything he had to give. With a final imagined smile, Harry pushed Malfoy's image out of his head and slumped back against the wall, chest heaving with rough breaths.

So much for ignoring my attraction to the bastard… Harry thought snidely. How am I meant to pretend he doesn't exist when I imagine him giving me amazing blowjobs?

Stepping back under the spray, Harry washed himself clean once more, feeling a little more than repulsed with himself for being so crude.

Fucking Malfoy…


"I think Potter likes you."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not!"

"Did he tell you this?"

"No… but I did overhear Weasley yesterday."

"And?"

"And it seemed pretty obvious it was you he was talking about." Pansy sniggered, remembering the conversation. "Longbottom has a crush on the Boy Who Lived but apparently Potter is only interested in blond's… snarky blond's."

"So? That could be anyone," Draco denied, fingers gliding over the keys as he typed.

"Really, Draco? Are you that in denial?"

"He didn't tell you, therefore I refuse to acknowledge it," Draco said stubbornly. "I'm not going to allow myself to fall for a ploy—I will not be humiliated."

"You think liking Potter is humiliating?" Pansy asked with a frown.

"No, I think the idea of Potter discovering I have potential feelings for him and announcing it to the school just to hurt me is humiliating," Draco replied. "Why risk anyone getting close enough to know? It's better to leave this entire mess alone."

Pansy sighed audibly, sinking back into the pillows on Draco's bed. The blond decided to ignore her for now, focusing instead on the essay McGonagall has assigned them the other day. Seriously, all this talk about Potter and feelings was extremely distracting, why on earth did Pansy think he'd want to know?

"Oh… I might have also told Potter I'd ask you if you'd tutor him in Potions."

Draco's fingers froze, eyes sharpening. "Excuse me?"

"Would you tutor Potter? It'd give you the chance to see if you're compatible."

"Never," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Are you mad? This is exactly what I'm trying to avoid!"

"Whatever, when you stop being such a prima donna then we'll talk," Pansy sniffed, getting off the bed. "Seriously, Draco, you either stop moping to me about your fucked-up love life or you actually do something about it."

"Fuck off, Pansy," Draco replied.

With a roll of her eyes Pansy removed herself from the room, leaving Draco in silence. He glared angrily at his screen, profanities of a vile nature running circles in his head.

Fucking Pansy, fucking Potter, fucking—argh FUCK!

Draco closed his laptop with a snarl. Tutor Potter? She must be raving mad!

You're just frightened that being in such close proximity with Potter he'll discover certain things about you… his inner voice chimed in happily.

"Which is never going to happen," Draco said forcefully. "Never."

Whatever you say, sweetheart.

While Draco wondered why the hell his inner voice sounded a lot like Pansy, the blond had gotten himself up off his bed and over to his wardrobe.

I need to get out of here…

He changed into his quidditch gear, grabbed his broom and made his way from his room and down the stairs. He ignored all voices that called out to him as he left the Slytherin common room and marched his way through the castle. Only when he was outside did he allow his pace to slow, his broom leaning comfortably against his shoulder. The walk to the quidditch pitch was a soothing one wherein Draco was able to calm the annoying inner voice that had decided to take up residence during his denial stage.

"Regardless if Potter likes me or not," Draco said to himself. "Nothing good is bound to happen if we act upon our hormones." He sighed softly. Nothing indeed…

Once on the pitch, Draco wasted no time in swinging his leg over his broom and kicking off from the ground. Although his interest in quidditch had diminished, flying at a leisurely pace was something the blond had always enjoyed; especially when stressed. Flying in lazy circles, dips, dives and loop de loops, Draco relished in the lack of the annoying inner voice; flying higher and higher and faster and faster until his heart was beating wildly from excitement. He loved moments like these, where no one, not even Pansy, could see him so carefree and happy.

Little did Draco know, however, that he was not alone as he flew rampantly throughout the stands.

Harry sat beneath a large tree, eyes trained on the blond's defined broomstick stance. In his lap was his art book, drawings of different variations of Draco scattered over the page. Watching the blond fly was slightly breathtaking but capturing his natural essence was even more so. Although Harry would not be able to put these up on Tumblr, having them in his art book for his eyes only sent a thrill down his spine. This was a side of Malfoy that Harry was positive no one knew.

No one but him.