9

Harry didn't tell anyone else about his plan. Hermione would probably tell him it was a stupid and reckless idea, which should have been a warning bell, really. But he wasn't in the mood for another argument. All he'd seemed to do for the last week was argue with different people about the same thing. He was sick of it. He was sick of going round and round in circles, especially when there were bigger things to worry about. He had a plan. He had a plan and he was going to execute it.

He snuck down in his invisibility cloak, mainly because he was scared that he was going to bump into Snape – or worse, Slughorn. He really couldn't deal with Slughorn, especially not when he was definitely going to get a detention for this if he was caught.

When he was opposite the Slytherin Common Room, he snuck the cloak into his bag and waited. He tried to look casual, because a group of second years stared at him as they went past. They glanced over their shoulders fearfully, as though they expected Harry to suddenly rush them and barge into the Common Room of his own accord.

Tried was the operative word. He couldn't sit still. His feet or fingers always started to tap on their own accord. He was driving himself insane with it.

Actually, he was going to give up hope. Maybe the sixth years had already all gone to bed. Maybe he was wasting his time lurking out here. He could always come back tomorrow – or the next day.

Still, Draco wasn't speaking to him. He didn't think he would be able to keep it up. He would break, soon enough, and apologise. It wouldn't be the end of the world, but it wouldn't have solved anything. They would be right back to where they started.

But a sixth year Slytherin hadn't come out of the Slytherin Common Room yet. He was wasting his time down here.

Just as soon as he was about to give up, the door open. He froze, a sudden rush of fear going through him.

It was Blaise Zabini.

He stared at Harry with dark, impassive eyes. "Your little boyfriend isn't here, Potter. Run along now."

"I'm not here to see Malfoy," Harry said. His voice didn't shake and he was proud of that. He stepped forward, blocking him from walking any further down the corridor.

"I'd like to say that I'm flattered," Blaise said, his lip curling. He stopped, using the half a head he had over Harry to his advantage. "But I'm not. I'm really not."

"You need to leave him alone," Harry said. "Whatever you're doing, you need to stop."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blaise's mouth twitched upwards, and he went to step around Harry.

He blocked his path. "I'm not an idiot, Zabini."

"Are you sure about that?" Blaise gave a scoff.

"I know there's something that's been going on. I know you've been bothering him for no reason-"

"No reason?" Blaise's eyes flashed and Harry found himself taking a step back. "It's bad enough that he's a poof – even if he wasn't, it would be bad enough that he's with a Gryffindor of all people. Then his father has to go and mess up, doesn't he? His father was a great disappointment to the Dark Lord – his mother too. They're traitors to the cause – to your cause." Blaise paused, his lip curling in a very Snape-like manner as he examined Harry. "I don't know what it is about you that makes people betray everything they've ever known – betray him of all people-"

"Because he's wrong. His ideas about purebloods and muggleborns, they're ridiculous-"

"They're the truth!" Blaise snapped, like he truly believed it. In the dim, greenish light of the dungeons, he looked sickly and pale. The spit on his lips and the dark of his mouth made him look like a ghoul instead of a teenage boy and even that wasn't the part that chilled Harry's anger. It was the earnest look on his face – the blood rushing to his cheeks as he spoke. "Grindlewald knew it! Grindlewald fought for it back then and we'll fight for it now. They're right – they're both right. Magic should be for those who truly deserve it – who know what to do with it."

"Murder innocent people you mean?" Harry spat back. "Like at the Quidditch World Cup? Murder muggles and torment muggleborns just because of who their parents were?"

"Fear makes people listen," Blaise was speaking as though he was reciting from a textbook.

"No," Harry said, and he wasn't sure where the words came from. It was as though there was something greater speaking through him. "Fear makes people rebel. They're rebelling against Voldemort-"

"How dare you say his name!"

"-They're rebelling against Voldemort and all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth in the name of purity – did you know that he's a half-blood himself?"

"You're lying," Blaise said. But he paused, taking a breath as he looked over Harry. There was a moment where he seemed to be remembering that he hated him, before he fixed that snarl back onto his face. "It doesn't matter who is the figurehead, Grindlewald is the one who planted the ideas."

"Grindlewald was defeated by Dumbledore. Just like Voldemort will be," Harry could fake the conviction in his voice. He could fake the loyalty. Dumbledore, in this context, he told himself, wasn't a man – he was their side. He was more a concept of their side than the old man upstairs who told Harry that either him or Voldemort had to die at each other's hands.

Blaise paused. Then a smile kept across his face. The smile of a cat who had the cream. The smile that should make a rat feel uneasy. Harry couldn't bring himself to, he just kept glaring. He was very good at it.

"So you don't know," Blaise said.

"Don't know what? You're not going to tell me that Grindlewald isn't really dead, are you? Or that Voldemort is his reincarnation or something."

"Oh nothing like that," Blaise scoffed and rolled his eyes. For a moment, just a moment, he had the same expression that Drao so often wore. The same slight smile on his face. For a moment, he looked like a teenage boy again instead of the troll in the dungeons. "Those are all fanciful tales for stupid housewives. No, Potter, there are much more interesting rumours. Rumours much more suited to-" there was a horrible twist of Blaise's mouth here. "Your tastes."

He sounded so much like Snape mentioning Sirius that Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't want to think all Slytherins were the same – he was sure those second years from earlier were actually decent people – but they sure rubbed off on each other in some ways.

"I'm not here to discuss ideologies, Zabini," he said instead. "There's no way to get through your thick skull. I'm here to get you to lay off Draco."

"Malfoy? Who you've barely spoken to in a week?" Blaise laughed at the expression on Harry's face. "Don't think people haven't noticed, Potter. The golden couple of the school are having a lovers tiff."

"It because of people like you-"

"No, it's because of you. It's because of you that Draco's mother betrayed the Dark Lord. She did it for you and who the fuck can figure out why? Betrayed her family – her family full of pure blood wizards just for you! Because Draco asked her to because of you. Because Draco decided to go against everything – his family and his friends and his duty because he got a boner for you. That's why it's disgusting Potter – because you singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn't even care. You don't even care."

The words got under Harry's skin and bubbled there. For a moment he couldn't even breathe.

"I care," the words echoed like a drip around the dungeon, as though there was a small army of Harry's. Small was the word. He felt very small.

"Oh yes, you've come down here to save your beloved little wolf," there was that hideous gleam in Blaise's eyes. The gleam of a lion seeing a wounded gazelle – seeing the surprise in Harry's eyes. "Yeah, we got told about Malfoy's little hairy problem. It's a good reminder to us all, what happens when you make the wrong decision."

Harry couldn't move. The lights in the dungeon blurred in his vision, becoming a white-green glow. He prayed that he wouldn't faint. Being sick was fine – at least if he was sick he would be sick all down Blaise's front. It would be just as horrible for either of them.

"It's sweet, really," Blaise kept talking, his tone suggesting it was anything but. "A faggot knight in shining armour for the-"

Harry's wand was under Blaise's chin, anger clawing its way out of his chest. The word had ripped through him – brought him back from the fog that was invading his mind. Fog bringing words that he had already thought, several times. It was all his fault. Of course it was.

"You say it," he growled, and a spark flew from his wand. "I. Fucking. Dare. You."

Blaise met his gaze without flinching. He stared down at Harry with hooded eyes.

"Or what, Potter?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

If Draco had asked him, Harry would probably start stuttering for an answer. But Draco wasn't asking and he was angry all over. He hadn't felt this angry for a long time. Since he had been inside Voldemort's head. This kind of anger was dangerous and exhausting and-

Thrilling. He felt like he could do anything. He was on fire.

And he knew the spell. He knew exactly what one to pick. The Half-Blood Prince's handwriting appeared in his mind as clearly as if it was before him. 'For enemies.'

Well, he was a half-blood.

"Sectum-"

"Flippendo!"

The spell whipped against Harry's cheek and he hit the wall behind him.

"Protego!" he had spent long enough in the DA to be able to cast that even as he was blinking stars away from his eyes. His mouth tasted like copper, and his glasses were askew, but he was still able to glance around to see Blaise stood with his wand raised at this newcomer.

This newcomer who was Draco Malfoy. He looked like a ghost – thin and pale and ready to snap with one good spell thrown his way. Despite that, he still managed to be terrifying. His expression had gone beyond fury, his mouth and eyebrows set as he glared a hole through Harry. Harry met it, anger still bursting like blisters all over his skin.

"What the hell is going on?" Draco's voice was quiet. It didn't even echo. It didn't need to. Harry felt frozen to the spot – like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Malfoy," Blaise was smiling. He had the attitude of someone who had just sat down to watch a good show. "Care to reign in your pup? He was just about ready to bite me," the smile made Harry's stomach turned as Blaise paused, his eyes flicking over Draco. "Though, maybe he should be the one stopping you from biting anyone, hm?"

Draco gave Blaise an unimpressed twitch of the eyebrow, but he looked tired. He looked as though he had heard this all before and it didn't bother him. Well that was fine – but it bothered Harry. At that moment he felt all the venom that Nagini felt just before she had bitten Mr Weasley –

He had cast the stinging jinx before he had even thought about it. The white flash illuminated the dungeon and the force of it sent Blaise flying backwards.

The glimmer of triumph that he felt lasted a moment, before Draco was grabbing his arm and yanking him down the hallway, mumbling a collection of swear words under his breath. He glanced back towards Blaise, who was writhing on the ground, before he pushed Harry around a corner. As they stood there, Harry could hear Blaise moaning slightly. His lips threatened to twitch into a smile, but Draco was still glaring at him. In the last few weeks he had seen Draco furious, but it was still enough to make him feel cold. His legs threatened to shake.

And Draco wasn't saying anything. He was just staring at him with a mix of disappointment and outrage on his face.

"Draco, I-"

"Don't."

"-I just wanted to-"

"Run around jinxing anything that looks at you funny?" Draco swallowed. He wouldn't look Harry in the eye. He was looking at the ceiling. "You said you were going to leave it. I trusted you."

"Do you?" Harry's voice sounded sharp and high in the corridor. "If you trusted me Draco, you would-"

He fell silent as he heard footsteps. Draco cursed under his breath again, pushing Harry into a nearby classroom so hard that he stumbled over a desk. Draco pushed the door closed, an ear pressed towards it.

"You would talk to me," Harry continued. A part of him was terrified that they'd be caught, but a larger part of him didn't care. What was the worse that could happen? Dumbledore wasn't about to expel him. Not now. "You would tell me about what's happening – you would let me help-"

Draco cut Harry off by moving suddenly and quickly, like a cobra. It seemed the next instant that he was right in front of Harry, his hand pressed against his mouth. The footsteps were louder outside. Harry heard a cry. It sounded like Millicent Bullstrode.

"You can't help," Draco hissed. "You can't help with this, Potter. That's what I've been trying to get through your thick head. Doing this – pulling such a – that's only made it worse. Now you've made me look like some prissy little damsel in distress-"

"Professor! Professor Snape, come quickly!" that was definitely Millicent outside.

"-They're all going to think I need big, strong Potter to protect me-"

Harry pulled Draco's hand down. They were so close that they were almost nose to nose. "Well, it's not like you were going to protect yourself, was it?"

"They're not worth it – they're silly little school children-"

"Draco, look at you! You look like death. One flippendo and – fuck, I can't believe you shot at me!"

"Well someone had to stop you from making a stupid mistake, didn't they?"

"Honestly, Miss Bullstrode, it's a simple stinging jinx," Snape's voice had a way of travelling down the corridor, as though he was an unembodied voice penetrating each room. "The perpetrators will still be around, nip back into the Common Room and tell them there will be fifty house points for whoever catches who did this."

Draco hit Harry's shoulder, hard, and grabbed a handful of his robes, bundling the two of them into one of the potions cupboards. It was for books, not ingredients and they barely fit around the piles of mouldering textbooks with closed doors. There was just a sliver of light, illuminating a line down Draco's face.

"He would have got what he deserved," Harry whispered, making sure to keep his voice down.

"What were you even going to cast?"

Harry paused just long enough that he knew he wouldn't be able to get away with lying. "One of the Prince's spells."

"Of course," the words dripped disdainfully from Draco's tongue. "So you didn't even know what it was going to do."

"Well it said 'for enemies,' so-"

"You could have done permanent damage."

"And they haven't done damage to you?"

"Not this again-"

"What am I supposed to think when you won't tell me? You just leave me to imagine all the fucked up-"

Draco's hand was over his mouth again, his whole body pressed against Harry to keep him still. The classroom door creaked slowly open and Harry froze. It was definitely inappropriate to think about how warm Draco was – how soft his fingers were.

And yet he was sure that Draco had slipped a leg inbetween Harry's legs on purpose.

They listened to the footsteps tracking through the classroom and Harry found his hands on Draco's waist. They just slipped there as though it was second nature, and they still seemed a good fit, even though Harry could feel Draco's hipbones. It was the first time in a week and a half that he had been this close to Draco and he had missed it.

The footsteps continued to stalk around. He felt, rather than heard Draco sigh, then there was a whispered spell.

Whoever it was in the classroom let out a cry. The footsteps ran from the room, with a squeaked "they're going this way!"

Harry heard a stampede of feet moving through the corridor outside. He stayed still, waiting until Draco pulled away and feeling suddenly cold when he did.

Draco stepped out of the cupboard and into the classroom, making a few textbooks scatter in his wake. He stood with his back to Harry, his arms crossed around himself. Harry stayed still against the edge of the cupboard.

"It's – it's because of the way you look at me," Draco said. He turned, looking up at Harry. "You look at me like I'm this – mythical creature – like I'm something great. It's selfish and stupid, but," Draco licked his lips and his gaze dropped. "I don't want you to ever stop looking at me like that. If – you'd look at me like they do, if you knew everything."

Harry stepped down from the cupboard, stepped closer to Draco, so that his fringe bumped against Draco's.

"You know every shitty thing about me, Draco," he murmured. "Every horrible thing that happened to me as a kid you saw with occlumency. I never wanted you to know about any of that. But you still – you still – stay."

"I love you, that's why," Draco said. His mouth twitched.

"And I love you," Harry said. "So you can tell me."

Draco pressed his head against Harry's, his fingers just pressing against Harry's chest. "I don't know how. We don't talk about this, at home – we don't talk about-"

"You're not at home," Harry murmured, he pressed Draco's hands against him. "You're with me. Just me."

Draco pressed himself against Harry, his cheek brushing against Harry's as he rested his chin on his shoulder. The movement made Harry realise just how sore the side of his face was. It stung and throbbed and he had to stop himself from wincing.

"I can't look at you," Draco whispered. "Don't – don't move – don't say anything, okay?"

"Yes, Mr Malfoy."

"You're such a dick, Potter," but Draco pressed his mouth against Harry's neck. Then he sighed –

and began to speak.

Once it had been safe to leave the classroom, they had. It had been a quiet walk upstairs to the Room of Requirement. it seemed to know Draco instantly, but the room it conjured up was a weird mix of Malfoy Manor and the Gryffindor Common Room.

He had told Harry what had happened. He had shaken and had to stop every few moments to find the right words. Harry tried to do what he was asked. He tried not to move, or say anything. He ended up biting his tongue hard enough to bleed and clenched his fists. At the end of it all, Draco just whispered "so you now you know."

It didn't seem to do it justice. But now Harry knew – a part of him wished that he hadn't asked, that he'd just let it go.

Draco had told him, though.

Draco had trusted him.

And Draco didn't mollycoddle him about the Dursley's. He sneered and swore but he hadn't gone out and cursed them. Yet, at least.

So he tried to do something that he'd never done before – he took a leaf from Draco's book, and just whispered. "I'm sorry. Thank you."

Draco had squeezed his hand then. That was when they had left the classroom.

"I'm sorry about this," Draco ran his finger over the red skin of Harry's cheek.

Harry was leaning against the poster one of the four poster beds the room had supplied. He shrugged. "I could take it."

Draco chuckled, and pressed his mouth to the angry mark. "It makes you look tough though."

"I think I have enough scars, thanks," Harry turned away, running a hand through his hair. Draco's gaze flickered to the lightning bolt. "Can't you, I don't know, heal it, or something?"

"I could," Draco let his hand drop down, it rested on Harry's thigh. "But I think you should keep it. It makes it look like you fought Zabini and won."

"I thought I wasn't allowed to fight Zabini."

Draco shrugged.

"I want to, now," Harry said, putting his hand over Draco's. "Shit, Draco."

"It was nothing – you can get a lot worse than oppugno," Draco said. He squeezed Harry's thigh. "Don't start duelling people, you'll get expelled."

"Dumbledore won't expel me," Harry said.

"Fine then," Draco said, he shuffled closer, so that he was almost straddling Harry. "I don't want to see them use crucio on you."

"They wouldn't get that far," Harry half-smiled, hoping that he looked like the cool chosen one.

"Oh really?"

"I got an 'O' on my Owls and I've defeated Voldemort three times."

"Honey," Draco's nose nudged against Harry's. "Honey, no. Standing up for me, you saw how it went. They're like stinging nettles stings – ignore them and they'll go away. Eventually."

"I don't want to wait for that."

"Tough," Draco was smirking, and his hands were still on Harry's thighs, applying just enough pressure to scramble his stomach. He leant forwards to catch Harry's mouth in his own, and Harry found himself smiling. He wanted to kiss Draco – he had missed kissing Draco –

And then Blaise's words echoed in his head – you singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn't even care.

Harry turned away, because suddenly he felt sick again. You don't even care.

His hands caught Draco's, slipping them away from him.

"I knew it – I knew this would change everything," Draco muttered. He swallowed, trying to disentangle himself from Harry, but he hung on.

"No – no, it's not you-"

"Did you seriously just say that?"

"Honest – it was – it was just something that Blaise said-"

"About me?"

"About me," Harry swallowed.

"It wasn't true," Draco whispered. "Nothing he says is true, Harry."

Harry nodded, but the words bounced away from him. He felt numb. Draco studied him, his pale eyelashes flickering. He moved slowly, like he was approaching a skittish horse, and placed a chaste, quick kiss on Harry's mouth.

"I promise. He's lying."

Harry nodded again, letting his mouth rest against Draco's. Whilst he was talking, it was easier to block out the words.

"It's easier like this, isn't it?" he murmured eventually. He wanted to close his eyes, so that he didn't have to look at Draco, but every time he did he saw Blaise spitting at him. "Not – not being-"

"All lovey-dovey?" Draco finished his question. "Yes. Of course it is. It was easier last year when no one knew."

"You want to go back to that?" Harry wasn't sure why his voice was shaking. He wasn't sure why the idea of hiding their relationship bothered him. Draco was right. It was easier for both of them.

"I think we basically already have," Draco whispered, he ducked his head underneath Harry's chin and buried himself in Harry's school shirt. "I think it would be better to tell everyone we broke up. We were just too different to make it work. It was just a phase-" Draco paused to yawn, then clutched at Harry's shirt like a cat digging in its claws. "-Any old nonsense. They'll lay off and everything will be like it was before they found out."

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping his arms around Draco. His hair was soft underneath him. This was better, he told himself, as Draco shuffled to find the perfect position, pressing his cheek against Harry's chest. He wondered if he could hear his heartbeat.

This would be better for Draco, and so, it would be better for the both of them.

And yet there was a little voice that made itself known as Harry drifted off to sleep. A little voice, that sounded very much like Blaise told him it was because Draco resented him. He resented that Harry had done this to him. It was Harry's fault, after all. It was Harry's fault it was like this. It was Harry's fault that he was out. It was Harry's fault that Draco was a werewolf.

Everything was Harry's fault.

And now Draco wanted to hide it. Hide them. He was ashamed – ashamed of Harry.

The voice wouldn't stay quiet, even when Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. It seemed to flutter around his head like billywigs.

Nargles, he supposed.

He understood why Luna hated them.

Draco was right about one thing – everyone assumed that the angry red mark on the side of Harry's face was caused by Blaise Zabini.

"Is it true, Harry – is it true?" Colin Creevey, who had barely spoken a word to Harry since he had come out, was suddenly right in front of him with his camera raised as they sat at breakfast.

"Is what true?" Harry pushed the camera down, shovelling a cereal into his mouth.

"That you put Zabini in the hospital wing? Is it true – it's true isn't it?"

"No way, mate," Ron spoke around his toast.

"Of course it isn't true – Harry – it's not, is it?" Hermione asked. She was still pointedly ignoring Ron.

Harry shrugged.

"Did he give you that?" Colin's camera flashed, leaving Harry blinded. As the spots cleared from his vision, he caught Draco's eye at the Slytherin table. Draco raised his eyebrows, smirking at Harry. Harry smirked back and rolled his eyes.

"No comment," Harry said.

"Harry!" Hermione was glaring at him. "You'll get detention for that – at least – I can't believe – why would you pick a fight with Blaise Zabini of all people?"

Harry shrugged, Draco's words coming back to him from the night before. He bit his lip. "He was annoying me – going on about Grindlewald and stuff."

"Really?" Ginny slipped in next to him. "Or was he annoying Draco."

"So Luna told you," Harry muttered.

Hermione's glares redoubled, but Lavender Brown had just arrived, which meant she shut her mouth and glared into her scrambled eggs, and Ron's eyebrows flew upwards.

"Luna tells me everything," Ginny grinned at him. "And I tell you – if someone was messing with her, well I'd-"

"Well no one will mess with you, will they?" Ron snapped. "Because-"

He caught Harry's stare and watched as Harry shook his head slightly. He swallowed the end of his sentence.

"Because what, Ronald? Because they like to see two girls make out?"

Harry was sure that he heard Colin's jaw hit the floor when he realised what was happening. His stomach clenched for Ginny, but she didn't seem to care. Technically, he told himself, they hadn't told her Luna's secret.

But it was still out.

How had their situations reversed so quickly?


(A/N): Thanks for the 100 followers! And all the comments!