Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters and the whole world created around it; all belong to J.K. Rowling, who we all worship and serve. I just love to manipulate them to serve my own selfish needs.
But I do own Alex Ladon, Finbar Ganad, Darragh Ganad (and their mom), The Zabini Family (bar Blaise of course), and some minor characters (Orion, North, Gloves, Rufus…). DO NOT USE THESE UNLESS YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION!

The plot comes from the voices inside my head. You have been warned.

Chapter 9 - From Yesterday

"Well fine, be that way, but you sound like you're having your time of the month Potter. Just don't take it out on me." – Draco Malfoy

Harry was teetering on the edge of sleep, sometimes slipping in some hazy slumber, but mostly conscious enough to hear the by now familiar noises of their little apartment. After a refreshing shower he'd changed into nothing but the flannel trousers he preferred to sleep in and had lain down on his stomach to catch some rest. After a while Nyoka had joined him, curling partially up on the small of his back. Nevertheless her weight sank his stomach deep into the mattress. The numbness he was experiencing was only increased by the constant buzz of his boa's terrarium.

She might be an exception to most rules that applied to her kind, but her terrarium was necessary for her to bask in at times. Sirius and he had coughed up a sum of money that had a specialist make some sort of flap in it used for cats. Having the glass cut and the doorway installed was expensive, but Harry was prepared to give it up if it was for his pet snake's health. By now he had repaid the debt he had made with Sirius, after all it was not his Godfather's boa constrictor, Nyoka was Harry's responsibility.

Ron had been shocked the first time he'd seen her, then again, she was huge. About ten foot, so she was pretty intimidating. Harry loved her, other people preferred a dog or a cat, but Harry simple adored his boa. It was almost as if she understood him and he was unnaturally talented in deciphering her complex flow of hisses. Nobody believed him when he said he got a lot of love from her, but having her presence was reassuring.

It was about two in the afternoon when the bell of their apartment jangled noisily. If it was Seamus on some endeavour to wreck his sleep, he was going to castrate the Irish lad.

Sirius could be heard moving around and towards the door. There was a short silence followed by a 'clack' when the door was opened.

"Hey! Long time no see, lad! Come in, come in! How's it going?" he heard Sirius say with a sort of crisp, perky awareness that should be illegal that early in the day when Harry was definitely unable to tie two brainwaves together to create some form of intelligence.

Harry missed most of this mystery person's reply, save for the last; "-holiday in the neighbouring town and since I've got my driver's license dad allowed me to borrow the car. And, yeah well, I just had to drop in, had to see him."

Harry was willing the tendrils of fog to clear from his mind. He knew that voice. It couldn't be...

"Yeah thanks," the person responded to something Sirius had said, "So anyway, is he around?"

But it was. It was him –no doubt. Harry could have recognized that voice out of a million. A tenor that tended to border on the baritone.

"Yeah, he's home alright, doing a pretty impressive impression of a comatose patient right now. Right through that door over there, just go in." Sirius answered wryly.

Footsteps came closer now, and Harry was now scrambling frantically to get from under the boa constrictor, all the while trying to find his glasses and flattening his outrageous fluffy hair.

"Nyoka, just bloody move, will you!" he pleaded and just when the snake recoiled, affronted, the door of his bedroom opened. Due to the sudden lack of counter-balance, Harry toppled right over the edge of his bed in a tangle of legs and flying arms.

"Cedric!" he greeted, plastering a horribly crooked grin to his face as he poked his head from over the edge of his bed, "Hi!" he swayed as he came to his feet, his right leg numb and assault of needles and pin-pricks. "How –eh- are you doing?"

But when his myopic-plagued gaze fastened on the tall and willowy figure that was standing in the entrance, Harry felt a strong surge elation coursing his veins. It really was him, almost as if Harry's missing of him had compelled him to visit him. How could this be a coincidence?

Cedric Diggory was feeling very much the same as his friend. His lips twitched at the sight of his childhood friend so completely dishevelled; a comical but delightful sight at the same time. It had been too long since he'd seen his 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

As best friends for as long as he could remember, Cedric knew exactly how much Harry loathed the title. After all, who would appreciate being named as if he were some sort of wondrous creature, blessed by higher entities from above, just because he had survived the fatal car-crash that had claimed both his parent's lives at such a young age? Nothing that had been involved in that terrible accident had survived, only Harry, with a scar on his forehead that never seemed to heal to show for it.

Despite not having seen him by childhood pal-, best-friend- and ex-lover-standards for a long time indeed , Harry was still Harry, special in his own way and yet all the same very much different. Cedric wondered whether Harry saw the same in him. His heart seemed to expand with affection when letting his keen eyes sweep over the dishevelled form of Harry, now looking adorably embarrassed, wearing way too long, black flannel trousers, his torso marked with the criss-cross red creases from where his body must have been pressed into the duvet, black hair literally fluffed up in all directions and eyes still plastered shut with the lack-of sleep.

Reining his straying thoughts back into place, he sniffed in fake-pique, "Is that all you've got to say to your ex-significant other?"

Harry scratched his neck and yawned, managing barely, "Yeah, well, if I had known I'd have worn my tux and combed my hair."

"Combed your hair? For me?" Cedric grinned, clucking his tongue as if endeared. "Oh, Harry, you flatter me."

"Ha. Ha. Very droll, Cedric; very droll," Harry mumbled with a roll of his eyes, as he unfolded his glasses and slipped them onto his nose. His friend came sharply into view looking very much as the last time he'd seen him, but with new light dancing in his eyes Harry had never seen before. It warmed him to know he was happy.

They stared at each other, smiling dumbly, in an awkward silence. Finally Harry had become embarrassed enough to ask, "Uh… Coffee?"

Cedric nodded, "Yes, please."

--

Half an hour and a wake-up shower later Harry sat with Cedric at Starbucks, yawning into his steaming mug of coffee. It felt strange to sit together, almost as if they were complete strangers to one other. But nothing could have been less true; he knew the workings of this youth's mind better than his own, as he was with his body.

The thought alone had Harry's cheeks flush slightly, and he hid the evidence behind the shaggy fringe of black hair that conveniently flopped in front of his face with a slight tilt of the head.

Harry and Cedric had grown up together, attending the same elementary school and living on the same street. Back then Sirius was renting a sorry-excuse-for-an-apartment, taking care of his departed best friend's only son and working the skin off his hands to keep his new garage going. For his Godfather it had been a hard time, working long days to meet the quota needed to sustain not only himself but also young Harry.

The Diggorys were a wonderful family, despite the great deal of pride Amos took in his son, which he tended to be somewhat rude about to Harry. On reflection perhaps not so unimaginable as Harry had been the centre of the neighbourhood's attention. Not only did everybody tend to dote on the young child, who'd just lost his parents in such a cruel twist of fate, but also because Harry outshone most of his comrades with some unique talents. Cedric, though a very clever and charming little boy himself had never really been bothered with standing in Harry's shadow. He'd adored the kid from the first moment they'd set eyes on one other. It hadn't mattered to Cedric either that he was three years older than Harry. Soon they had grown inseparable, sticking together through all the important bends and cross-roads in their lives.

It was then that the Diggorys took care of Harry after school, fed him and made him do his homework, because Sirius would return home late, thoroughly exhausted and battered, unable to do anything else but stagger to the shower and throw himself on the couch afterwards. When Mrs. Diggory dropped the young kid off back home, she'd always make sure Harry had some leftover dinner with him for Sirius.

When Sirius' garage had finally taken off and the mechanic was able to hire some help, things settled down and Godfather and Godson were able to spend more time together.

Harry's childhood years consisted of two great chunks; everything before he was three was one dark blur of confusion and deep-rooted grief. The shock of losing his parents was an angry scar on his youthful soul, and the two following years after that horrible event were filled with memories of the Dursleys. Forced to sleep in a cup-board under the stairs and help himself with Dudley's hand-me-downs had made the young Harry very grateful of everything he had now. The years that came after he turned three were ones of fond remembrance and nostalgic feelings.

It didn't particularly matter that he had had three homes; Sirius', the Diggorys' and Remus'. Amongst the three of them they had managed to give Harry the childhood he deserved and the affection he needed.

A strained and inane conversation took place at first, but upon recognizing that both of them were genuinely glad to see the other again, and that there were truly no hard feelings over what had come to pass between them, the young men grew relaxed. Soon Harry was bouncing up and down his chair like a big kid when he re-told some of his 'adventures' with Ron to a smirking Cedric.

Later that Sunday afternoon, they found themselves at an arcade, wasting coin after coin on pointless games, but having such a good time that they really couldn't be bothered about it. Noisy whoops and laughter came from their general direction, drawing many a curious glance from passers-by.

Cedric was sure he was going to have a muscle cramp in his face; in the two months his best friend had been away he hadn't laughed nearly as much.

Usually Harry was the pensive - even shy - kind of guy. Not that he could be blamed, really: Having grown up as the 'local freak' and having been told that it was his fault that his parents had died by Lily's side of the family was not really what any child should have to go through.

This knowledge –knowing how cruel people could be- gave Harry the tendency to be wary and sometimes even suspicious towards people. What he did seem to forget was that he unconsciously drew people to him, that one hard glance from those emerald eyes could silence an entire room of adults.

Harry kept babbling continuously, almost as if he was trying to make up for the time he and Cedric had been separated. However, the brown-haired youth was starting to get suspicious that the enthusiasm was not only caused by his presence. Seeing as one particular name always seemed to pop up repeatedly in his little stories.

"-so then Ron and I had run our asses off! Man, I swear, you should have seen the look on his face!" he looked pensive for a moment, his face turning pink as Cedric crashed his car repeatedly. "Though he did glue my thumbs together after that. But I've always wondered how he managed it… because you'd figure I'd notice something like that."

The 'he' –and the returning subject in his ramblings- was a certain Draco Malfoy, and for as far as Cedric had understood, he and the guy named Ron were fierce rivals with each other. However, as Harry continued to beautifully integrate 'him' into whatever he was saying, it seemed more and more obvious that, knowing Harry, there was more to it than just a careless mention.

Harry was just mid-way into his chronicles of their encounters in the hallways that Cedric simply interrupted: "You really fancy him, don't you?"

The polygonal racing vehicle made quite a spectacular lurch as Harry abruptly lost all interest in the game, not that he had been exactly on his way to victory in the first place. "Malfoy! Are you daft?" he protested meekly, trying to look as though he meant it. Meanwhile the tip of his nose had turned a spectacular shade of scarlet.

Cedric arched an eyebrow, but did not even turn his face to look at his friend. "Obviously, you couldn't have mentioned 'Malfoy' more than grammatically correct in every sentence."

Rendered curiously silent for most of a minute, Harry glared at the game-over blinking insistently on the screen. Cedric cast a sideways glance to discover the raven-haired youth chewing on his bottom-lip. Putting a hand on his shoulder Cedric gave him an assuring smile, "Don't pull a face like that, and it's alright."

Having hit the sore spot with an accuracy that only childhood friends could, Harry seemed instantly relieved. He had been worried that Cedric had been irritated about his attention already having been riveted on another person, even though barely two months ago they had shared their last kiss.

After that, the mood for silliness and pointless arcade games had evaporated, and the two of them set about to the local park near Everlind's.

A few kids were out playing with a tattered old ball when Harry and Cedric crossed the play court, dodging wayward balls and kids ever so often until their feet trotted on the gravel-covered path that twisted its way onwards through the trees. All around them the foliage was reddening with the coming of autumn and some early yellow leaves danced to the ground to serve for a next generation's dinner. It seemed that the climate was caught on a roller coaster as the weather changed from a chilly wind one day to a warm breeze the next.

"You seem to be quite taken with this guy…" Cedric encouraged gently, the cool air stirring his brown hair as they walked into the park.

Harry grumbled indignantly, munching on his earlier-purchased cone vehemently. "S'not fair. How do you always seem to know these things?"

"Oh c'mon Harry… Anyone could read you like an open book." Cedric said, having to look down as he tried to catch Harry's gaze.

The latter just stared out over the pond on the banks of which they had come to a halt. Harry didn't seem actually piqued, but more in deep thought, as if the whole thing was still beyond his own grasp. After a while he seemed to have mulled through his inner mayhem of thoughts and asked, "Are you sure you're not… well, disappointed in me?"

Cedric nudged him with his elbow, finally getting the worried youth to look at him, "I'll never regret what happened between us, though it was not meant to be." He allowed a small grin to grace his full lips, "But you were a wonderful kisser, mind you."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Harry shook his head, but couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips.

"Anyway, it would be hypocritical of me to take offence in your new-found interest, seeing as I've got my own now." Cedric tried to mention as casually as possible, yet both dreading his friend's reaction and dying to tell him.

But the pretence of passing it off as something unimportant didn't work on the young man, "Who?" he asked immediately, his face bright with wonder. Cedric didn't fall in love easily, and if he did it were always people that were remarkable in their own way. Unique and frank people, often a lot like Cedric in a way.

Kicking himself inwardly for blushing he tried to cover it put by lowering himself on his haunches, pretending to be looking closer at a few ducks. "Oliver."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Oliver? The Oliver Wood? My ex-basketball trainer?" he demanded breathlessly.

Cedric didn't even manage to nod and just settled with blushing even harder at the lake.

"Wow." Harry said with a laugh, crouching down next to his friend. "Couldn't have picked a more handsome bugger, could you?"

Though still blushing, Cedric suddenly turned towards him with a playful smirk, "I only settle for the best," he paused to lean in and breathe huskily; "Harry."

"Idiot," Harry swatted at him, toppling over at the suddenness of the gesture.

Now that he was down on the ground after all, he crossed his legs into a comfortable sitting-position. Cedric followed suit, but scooting closer until their knees nudged. For a while, they sat in contemplative stillness.

"Do you regret it?" Cedric wondered, his voice low and somewhat edged with anxiousness.

"What?" Harry said, playing dumb.

"Us," the brunette clarified.

Harry looked up from where he'd been plucking at a dead leave, his green eyes bright and his dark hair whirling around his face with a sudden gust of the wind, "No, not at all. You should know that, Cedric. Why ask?"

"I just…" He faltered, frowning at the turmoil of emotions that whirled around in his stomach, eventually he spoke, but his voice had a distinct sense of unease to it "I really missed you… and I haven't heard anything of you besides those few calls. I thought you might have regrets or something."

For a moment, Harry just gazed dumbstruck at his childhood friend, "Cedric," he said with an amused shake of his head, "You're a prat. C'mere." And with that, Harry manoeuvred himself so until he had his friend in the v of his legs and his arms wrapped around Cedric's slender torso. Smiling into short brown hair, Harry murmured, "How could I have regrets about you, mate?"

Cedric hummed in the back of his throat, letting his eyes slip shut contentedly as Harry nuzzled his neck tenderly. For a while they sat together, gazing out over the lake, unspoken words drifting between them. For Harry it felt as if some great weight had been lifted of his shoulders, knowing that they were, after all, still friends.

"I've got to get going, kid," Cedric said after a while, "Dad will be expecting his car back."

Harry nodded, gripping Cedric's shoulders to push himself to his feet, "If you've got the time, pick me up tomorrow after school, so you can meet Ron and Hermione. You can have dinner at our place afterwards."

"Grand, I'll be there," Cedric promised when Harry offered him his hand to pull him up. "And maybe I can take you someday after school to see mum and dad again, they're anxious to hear about you."

"Sure, I'd like that," he responded genuinely.

With that in mind, they walked together back towards the suburbs of Hogsmeade town.

--

Alex was feeling absolutely awful. She probably looked like it, too. It was as if some chunk of God knows what had lodged itself behind her eyes and was swelling ever so slowly until the pressure on her vision became unbearable. When she'd turn her head abruptly she swore she could feel the thing slide around in her head. Every part of her body was doing its own specific form of protest. Her dreadlocks were an absolute disaster; they were crooked and fuzzy and bend awkwardly away from her head as if attempting to flee from the general feeling of uneasiness that radiated from her. The ugly, seven inch long, jagged scar that ran over her left hip had a tight, constricting feeling today, as if subtly twisting the ripped remains of skin that surrounded it. The small of her back was cramped and her knees were stiff. Her lips were chapped and she couldn't help licking them to lessen the burning, but it only made things worse.

In short, she felt like shit.

To her right Draco strode confidently through the hallway, without his hooded sweater, for he had offered it to her when she just couldn't stop shivering. His camera bounced against his sternum to the rhythm of his paces. He was looking good today, wearing a long sleeved green shirt under a black t-shirt, his fair hair tucked behind his ears except for a few stands that defied even Malfoy willpower and remained dangling in his face. A pair of jeans that pronounced the slender length of his legs rode low on his hips, kept in place by a green belt with a silver buckle. Draco had this thing going for green and silver. Besides his obsession for black.

Flanking Draco's other side was Blaise, who somehow managed to navigate through the tide of students without lowering his newspaper. It had been drizzling that morning, causing his dark brown hair to frizzle into untameable loose, loopy curls. His honeycomb eyes travelled methodically over the sentences and paragraphs, brain absorbing their daily portion of world news. The exotic tan was contrasted sharply against a light beige turtleneck one of his sisters had bought him. While, though in an entirely different manner than Draco, he should have stood out, he managed to blend in. Hiding in plain view. Blaise was good at that.

It was supposed to be lunch, but Alex doubted that she'd be able to keep any form of nutrition in her stomach. She also hoped Draco wouldn't mind her runny nose dripping ever so often on his -scarf, no matter how much she blew her nose. That combined with her period made a very disgruntled and fuzzy headed young woman.

She was peacefully daydreaming about her bed and steaming showers when a skittish second, or perhaps even first year, plowed right into Blaise

Fortunately, he was tall and managed to keep on his feet, but the small little girl had gone sprawling on the floor, books, papers and pencils strewn around her.

"Watch where you're going, you little-" Draco began indignantly, more a reflex than a sincere reaction.

Alex nudged him sharply. "Can it, mate, c'mon. The poor thing's scared shitless enough without you adding to it."

Which was an accurate enough description; for the girl had tears brimming in her big blue eyes and was clumsily grappling around on the floor to undo the chaos that had been created with their colliding. After gathering his thoughts Blaise knelt wordlessly on one knee and calmly gathered the books, papers and pencils. And handed them just as silently back to the first year.

Stuttering out an assembly of syllables that might have meant thank you or sorry, the girl ducked past Blaise's towering frame and sped out of the hallway - probably mortified about the whole experience.

Blaise was reaching out to pick up his newspaper when a delicate hand snatched it up in front of his nose. All the while his face remained completely neutral, except for the lift of one dark eyebrow as he slowly came back to his full height.

Padma Patil held out the roll of paper, "I think you dropped this." She said.

Her voice was a sweet, soft lilt that was incredibly pleasant to listen to, which was the reason she was one of the lead singers along with Cho Chang for the Halloween Event. She nodded at Draco with a graceful tilt of her head, but somehow overlooked Alex.

A barely perceptible jerk of his chin was all Draco returned. And he shifted his weight to his left leg, bumping shoulders with Alex.

"Yes, I think I might have lost it while beating the shit out of that first year." Blaise said eventually, when Padma just remained standing there with the newspaper in her hands.

For a moment Padma seemed undecided as to whether Blaise was joking or serious. He sure looked like he meant it; you had to give him that. It seemed that she was willing to think positively and giggled coyly, shielding her big brown eyes under long black lashes.

Blaise blinked and for the first time he cast an uncertain glance sideways at his friends. "Actually, I also wanted to ask something." Padma said, and her voice seemed huskier, "I wanted to practise a few songs, you know with Halloween being so close, and I wanted to ask if you'd guide me on the violin."

Alex's stomach had gone hollow, as if the bottom had just dropped out. Her pulse was beating in her neck.

Blaise was definitely frowning a little now, confused. "I think it'd be more practical if you ask Draco or Weasley -George-," he told her pointedly. "Guitar is easier for you to sing along with, to give a good rhythm and-"

"But I like the violin better, especially when you're playing." The beautiful young woman said softly, avoiding his steady gaze shyly, "I think it's a good match."

There was a frozen silence like that for a couple minutes, Blaise mutely staring at the desirable, dusky female, finally comprehending that she was flirting with him. "I'm afraid I can't help you." He said steadily.

"Oh." Padma uttered, covering her cherry-red lips with the tips of her fingers as she gushed flakily, "But it doesn't have to be right now. We've got last period free for practice, so I though we might try then."

Draco thought it was time he'd put his foot down and end this nonsense, "Look, Patil, we're going to practice as a group, because that's what we're supposed to be and we don't have much time left. But you know what; I'll make sure to pay extra attention to you, to see you don't make any mistakes." He sounded perfectly reasonable, even somewhat nice, but you had to be deaf, stupid and blind not to be able to read between the lines and catch the underlying threat.

It seemed Padma was momentarily stunned, "Oh. Yes, that's okay. Um, thanks." She mumbled eventually, and reluctantly started to depart. But she hesitated and smiled at Blaise once more, lowering her brown eyes with a fetching blush touching her shapely cheekbones. Then she was off, her long legs moving in tantalizing perfection under her mid-thigh skirt.

The half-Italian gazed somewhat befuddled after the slight form of Padma Patil, her long dark braid flipping in time with each sway of her hips. That was certainly unexpected, he thought to himself. Very vaguely, some recollections of Padma drifting close during practice and more than once trying to initiate conversation with him seeped back into his head. Also the very small touches, like she was plucking invisible hairs from his clothing. He should have seen it coming. Shaking his head clear of those trivial thoughts, he turned to Draco, smiling now.

"Over-protective much, Draco?" He asked, lowering his voice to a bass that seemed to slither over your skin.

Draco just quirked an eyebrow at him, "So what if I am?" he countered, lowering his voice accordingly, so it sounded throaty. "I can't say you seemed very enthusiastic, despite her being gorgeous."

The other just gave a one shouldered shrug that could have meant anything, but he already seemed distracted.

"Where did Alex go?" he asked.

"Mm?" Draco hummed, adjusting the lens on his camera before putting it to eye level and snapping a photo.

Blaise wondered what he possibly could have seen that was important enough to take a picture of; after all, they were in the middle of a deserted hallway.

"Alex, where did she go?" he repeated, motioning with his chin to where she had been standing a moment ago.

Said young woman had fled from the moment the 'big' question had hung in the air between her best friend and impromptu female companion. The 'I really like you and would love for us to spend more un-platonic time together'.

Well shit.

Weaving her way through a more crowded hallway, Alex worried her lip. Blaise's love/sex life hadn't really ever bothered her. Okay it did bother her because it meant having to sacrifice some of their quality time together because usually the girlfriends didn't like her being around. Draco said it was because she had an undiplomatic manner of socially communicating. This was why she generally got along better with males than females.

She'd tried of course. One time there'd been this other girl with whom she could get along with just fine. Until they'd gone shopping. There'd been a moment when said friend had been trying on some jeans and had asked for opinion. Alex had truthfully replied that she needed a size or two bigger. Then there had been lots of crying, and garbled bits about Alex saying she was fat. And Alex was not good with crying people -or rather that kind of hiccupping, snotty weeping -, she never really did know what to do then. When she'd been little, Gloves and the rest had usually told her to suck it up and raise her chin.

Not when she had been truthfully hurt -like the time she'd been pushed into the shards of glass and had gotten the scar on her left hip, then they were all warm embraces and gentle touches. But when she'd cry over trivial things -being scared of dark alleyways for one- they'd be quite merciless, not cruel, but just like that.

And Blaise somehow always ended up with clingy-kind of girls. A general laugh among them, for if there was one thing that would drive him up the walls it was that. That, silly names and The L-word after a week or two. Alex and Draco took great pleasure in mimicking those little things, until Blaise threatened to revoke visiting privileges. Which was an ever-working ruse because both Alex and Draco were quite fond of staying over.

Blaise was, ironically so, the most sexually active of the three of them. But, for more than half year now he'd been celibate. Probably because the last girlfriend had wreaked some sort of trauma on Blaise's mind. Apparently, the girl -named Violet- had accused Blaise of not wanting to 'talk'. Something that had confused the hell out of him as when he asked specifications, so he could adapt, Violet refused because otherwise it wouldn't be sincere anymore when he did so. One of the most frequent things she'd tell him was 'but you never talk to me' to which he would say, 'but we're doing so now'. And of course, when he'd genuinely tried to be more talkative, she'd ignore him or be pissed off about the topic of the conversation, or the fact it was always turning it into something of a good-natured debate, or that it was never about things she was interested in. And then, in a mind-blowing logic only pubertal females possess, if he tried to prompt a conversation about something she had been doing, or how her day was she'd accuse him of being suspicious and not trusting her.

Alex had smarmily suggested he ought to sing a song or recite poetry after/or during sex -they had never quite determined when Violet thought he ought to be more vocal. Something which had let to the most hilarious of imitations yet by Darragh; who had taken a great dislike towards his cousin's current girlfriend.

Ever the wealth of knowledge, Draco had just raised the brilliant idea that if the both of them were still stranded without a love-life after twenty-five, Draco was allowed to convert him to homosexuality. Blaise had shrugged and shook hands on it. This of course, had been pledged in private and well out of hearing-range of a certain cousin with chestnut hair.

That recollection had barely drifted back into the depths of her memories when she bumped into a certain cousin of Blaise Zabini with chestnut coloured hair.

"Oof," she huffed, upon knocking bodily into him. And, with everybody being taller than her, she hit her nose painfully against his breastbone.

Darragh had caught her by the shoulders, holding her at arms length, "Jay-sus, 'Lex, what's with the hurry?"

"Mating rituals between friend and fellow class-mate, that's what." She answered, rubbing at her nose gingerly. Now it was leaking a steady stream of something she didn't want to know in response to the brutal hit, and she fished around in the pockets of her too-baggy pants -she'd nicked them from Gloves in hurry, having overslept that morning- for a handkerchief.

"Ooh, mating-rituals. Where?" Finbar interjected, with his ever deep-burring bass for a voice. Harry and Hermione were hovering at his side, watching her in a critical manner.

Jerking a thumb over her shoulder, before she blew her nose was all they got for an answer.

"Who's doing fornication rites with whom?" Darragh pressed.

"Fornication rites," Hermione repeated," Wow, that your big word of the day, D?"

Darragh cuffed her playfully around the back of her head, sending swirling tufts of hair swinging into her face, "Well, thanks, Hermione, good to know you appreciate me. Good to know." He turned his back on her pointedly, centring his body frontally in Alex's vision. Behind his back Finbar high-five-ed Hermione.

"Blaise and-" Alex started to say, but someone talked right over the end of her sentence.

"Nobody." The supposed partaker of 'fornication' rites said loudly.

Giving Alex a pointed glare, Blaise tried silently to communicate that she should keep her mouth shut. He was doing his best to look as stony as a rock, with even less emotions than one, and if it hadn't been for the carton of fruit-juice that said 'squishy-strawberry', he might have pulled it off.

"Oh hi, Blaise," She smiled up at him overly-sweetly.

"Yeah hi, Blaise," Darragh gushed over-enthusiastically, and hip-bumped Alex out of his way so he could drill his eyes into his cousin's, "So who were you putting the moves on?"

Again, Blaise shot an exasperated glance at Alex, but he was met with a bland, angelic look, the bright green eyes wide and guileless, as if to say 'Don't look at me, I didn't do it'.

"The moves being put onto him, you mean." Draco clarified, only adding gleefully to his best mate's already embarrassing situation. He was standing next to Alex, arms crossed comfortably over his chest and smirking.

Finbar whistled. Blaise made a slicing motion with his finger across his neck at Draco, who batted pale eyelashes in response.

Upon concluding that two thirds of the group was not buying his aloof and neutral attitude, Blaise let his expressionless mask fall. Instead he sulked and moodily slurped at his carton of strawberry-lemonade.

"Padma Patil." Finbar spoke up suddenly, sagely nodding his head. His dark mane of hair was tied backwards with a bright-green elastic band he had pilfered from Lavender.

"Unfortunately." Blaise muttered.

"Oh-no, Wolfman," Hermione spoke up, poking her friend in the chest, "You're doing that creepy mind-reading thing again."

"Was not," he spluttered, grabbing the offending digit. Hermione's finger was so small that it disappeared completely in his fist, "I mean, c'mon, she was like all over him from the beginning of this month. Making goo-goo eyes at him and all that jazz. I think she must have been getting desperate to make such a bold move on him."

Draco let out a snort, "You can say that again, I mean, she was this close-" he lifted up a hand and squinted one eye shut as he peered through the tiny space between his thumb and forefinger, "to jumping his bones right there and then. And mister Tough Guy here needed me to chase her off."

"How very brave of you." Darragh told him, giving him a rewarding pat on the shoulder.

Still having not contributed at all to the conversation was Harry, who was unable to grasp the complete personality switch Malfoy was doing. He was actually being civil. More than that, he was joking with friends of Harry's. With a jolt Harry remembered how Darragh had told him that the two cliques were actually more tightly interwoven than you'd think. That, in reality they would be one big group of 'friends' if it had not been for the complete abhorrence Ron and Malfoy held for one another.

"You did not-" Alex was asking her friend, perplexed, waving a hand vaguely in mid-air to emphasize was she was getting at.

"Did I look interested?" Blaise returned, voice lowered, and the two of them were standing somewhat closer, trying to have some privacy.

Alex blinked up at him, "But she's all…perfect, y'know. She's even got some degree of intellectual competence. Plus she's a stunner, that's for sure, and nice. It's almost stupid that you didn't…well." Had Blaise not been focused on the fact that he could count the freckles on her face; he might have noticed how hard it was for her to choke out the words.

Jerking back into reality, having lost count at twenty-four, Blaise said more decisively, "I wasn't interested." And ended that statement with a half-shrug as he took the straw between his lips, sipping his lemonade.

He still had his eyes on her face when something -just for a moment- flashed in her eyes. Blaise let the straw flip from between his lips in confusion, sending a strawberry-juice spray splattering Darragh in the face.

Then the moment was ruined when Alex saw the shifty eyes Finbar was giving them. Her mouth was talking before she had come up with a decent flippant comeback. "Good!" she growled and slung first her left arm around Draco's waist and then her right around Blaise's, "I'd hate to share my two boys."

"Greedy." Darragh scolded her, giving her an affectionate pat against the cheek. "Monopolizing all the good stuff." He gave Draco an almost flirtatious wink.

"But I can share you know." Alex declared loftily, giving Draco a shove in Darragh's direction.

"I'm too young to die," Draco whimpered theatrically, but it was obvious that he was used to this kind of banter between Alex and Darragh.

"Knock it off, you guys," Finbar clucked at them, shaking his head almost sternly, "I think you're disturbing Harry here." Then his full lips curled into a grin as his crystal blue eyes darted up and down Harry's prone frame - like a deer caught in the headlights, with the attention of the whole group alighted on him.

"Aw," Hermione said, reaching up to smooth Harry's shock of black hair down, "Don't worry, they're just pretending."

"Yeah, cupcake, just a show." Darragh chimed in; "Unless of course, you'd really want me to give Draco a real goo-"

Finbar promptly slapped his hand over his brother's mouth, whispering out of the corner of his mouth, "Hush, kid, vent your perverted fantasies somewhere else. God knows what Harry must be thinking of us…" He gave Harry a beaming smile, slowly removing his hand from Darragh's mouth, who was just in progress of licking his palm wetly. As Finbar absently wiped the slobbering trail on his brother's shoulder, Darragh mimicked the silly smile. A perfect duo, those two and looking at the daft smiles alone you could tell they were brothers. Both of them had dimples in their cheeks, extra-pronounced by the caricature grin.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry finally found his voice, and punched Finbar playfully, "Cut down the sarcasm, already, I get your point."

"It isn't too late yet, Potter," Blaise told him solemnly, "There's still time to turn back."

"What about you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "He doesn't seem to have perverted your mind too badly yet. Or are you just good at hiding it?"

Blaise actually grinned deviously at him, "They're my cousins. What do you expect? I got the good traits from the both of them."

Alex fake-coughed into her fist, and it sounded very suspiciously like 'yeahright'. When her Italian friend snapped his hazel eyes to her, she pointed with a perfectly exemplary face at Draco.

Shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his jacket, Harry rolled his head gently in a slow circle, feeling the pull of the taut muscles at the back of his neck. This situation was just beyond surreal, here he was, witnessing with his own two eyes how things might have been. How it would have been had it not been for Malfoy's rotten remarks to Ron and the latter's sheer stupidity of simply falling for them each and every time again. If they might just once try and ignore each other, this would be daily goings-on.

He tried to imagine how it would be, hanging out with these people after school. Being comfortable enough with Malfoy to simply walk over and sit down next to him at the beginning of class. The opportunity had presented itself more than once, but he didn't dare. It hadn't even occurred to Harry to do so in the first place. He was Draco Malfoy, and he was Ron's best friend. He didn't even know the guy, let alone really speak to him.

There were but a handful of things he knew about Malfoy. That he was in Photography, and quite good at it. That he liked coffee. He could swim. He went horseback riding. That he had a girlfriend.

That was ignoring the way Harry loved how he smelled, blushed at the sound of his slightly hoarse voice, and couldn't seem to keep his eyes to himself if he moved, even if it was only the soft rising and falling of his chest when he breathed. Pure, unabated physical attraction.

Unnerving really, because he couldn't even get it out of his system. He had tried persistently over the course of the last few weeks to focus on anything unlikeable about Malfoy. But typically, there was always another side to the story, and Harry had, in contrast to the other moments, found out that Malfoy was, actually, likeable. He just never seemed inclined to display the other side around Harry. That was what had only just managed to come into sharp focus, the way he interacted with others he called friends.

But now, with this bizarre conversation unfolding between the most unlikely of people, he'd been there. Listening, watching. Even though Malfoy had not said a word to him, nor to Hermione, Harry had come to the discovery that Draco was genuinely witty and clever, even kind about it with his own friends.

Even Darragh was much closer to the blond than he had ever imagined and though for some reason Draco was overly cautious about Finbar, they shared a grudging respect that Harry had not known the existence of. All the time he had been left out of this loop, while he was closer to it than he had ever imagined.

Up until this moment, just willingly being in one another's proximity had seemed like a big laugh. A whole other dimension. He'd been wrong; blinded, thinking he'd know how the situation worked, but having grasped it completely twisted.

What Harry did not know for sure was how it really was and could be.

Maybe he'd been wrong all along.

He jumped slightly when Hermione grasped his arm. The young woman looked steadily into his eyes, almost as if she could read the inner-monologue that was reluctant to leave his mind.

Hermione looked away over her shoulder at the rest "See you later guys." And began to lead Harry away.

As the two of them progressed, Harry's stomach curled itself up in a tight knot. Hermione still had her hand on his elbow, as if suspecting he might bolt for it at any moment. It made Harry feel as if he was going to be chastised for something -and he prayed to the heavens it was not what he suspected it to be.

Eventually Hermione had let them outside, and pushed him down to sit at a solitary picnic bench under a willow that sloped over sharply. Straddling the bench, she sat down next to him. Brown eyes met his squarely for a moment and then cut away sharply, into the general nothingness that Harry was staring at.

"You like him, don't you."

It wasn't a question, just a statement. The knot in his stomach squirmed, and he clenched his jaw. How could she have known? They were friends, but for barely two months. Surely he could not be that obvious.

Sliding over closer to him, Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, "Harry?"

Still staring straight ahead without blinking, his eyes began to fog. "Who?" He asked, voice carefully bland.

The hand on his shoulder was jerked away, and Hermione's eyes flashed, "Don't. You know who, Harry."

He felt himself go strangely off balance, suddenly numb, as if someone had pulled the plug and all his emotions had swirled down the drain. When he spoke, his voice was cold, distant. "I think he's physically attractive, yes." With a small movement, he was looking at his friend. A small smile flickered over her lips, and she nodded. In reluctant agreement.

In response, Harry felt a tug at the corner of his mouth. Then his eyes glazed over and he bit his lip, worrying the inside.

"Are you alright?" Hermione murmured, and the hand returned to his shoulder.

Harry shrugged, the movement conveying exactly how he felt. "I'm just not sure how to think about it. All the time I've been thinking that he -or even they- were just assholes, you know."

Nodding gently now, as if understanding what it was he needed to say.

"I do feel guilty about it," Harry began, and his voice was fervent, desperate to explain himself, "And I was so bloody angry with myself, because he was such a bastard to Ron. And he still is a bastard. God. He really really is, but I'd never thought that…." he trailed of helplessly. Harry was not even sure anymore what he wanted to say, or explain, or whatever.

The pad of her thumb was moving in a soothing motion, "I'm not angry, Harry. I know. I've been working with him for the Halloween event and the Gods know how frustrated I've become with myself. And with him. Them. Draco and Ron. Draco can be so clever, funny even, when he wants to be. But then he spots Ron and he just can't seem to keep his mouth shut as if he needs to make Ron's life miserable. I've had to watch every word I said to him so carefully, about the last two weeks, because if Ron knew, he'd feel so betrayed."

"Yeah." Harry said, so relieved that he could tell a friend about it, without being judged.

"Gods, sometimes I just really want to punch the daylights out of Malfoy, you know." She proclaimed vehemently, balling one tiny fist, "And he knows I'd do it again. But then he-"

Harry stopped her, grabbing for the hand that was still on his shoulder and leaning closer, "Wait- did you just say you slapped Malfoy?"

Turning her head at him, Hermione smirked smugly at him. And shook her head, "Not slapped, really." And she balled her fist at him playfully.

Harry was flabbergasted. Hermione Granger had just smirked at him. Hermione Granger had socked Draco Malfoy. And was very smug about it.

"You're scary sometimes, you know that?" he told her, regarding her almost wearily. "Brilliant. But scary."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment," said Hermione, now trying to hide a blush.

"Please do tell me someone got that on tape?" the dark haired youth said in pleading tones.

"Nope, very sorry, Harry. It was a spur of the moment kinda thing. If he'd just shut up when I told him to, I wouldn't have punched him. But then well." Hermione shrugged, grinning softly.

Holding his head with two hands, Harry exclaimed, "I can't believe I missed that!"

It sounded -and was- so genuinely disappointed that Hermione broke out into hearty laughter. When Harry let his arms fall back slack again, the tufts of hair he had grabbed with his fingers a moment ago remained to stick up. It looked as if he were growing horns.

Without any hesitation, she'd been studying him closely past weeks; Hermione reached out and smoothed the dark locks down. Harry was, in fact, a very tactile person; responsive to the merest touch of another, while he would very rarely initiate it. Reserved, almost, scared of the other's reaction.

If she hadn't been specifically looking for it, the fraction of a degree he tilted his head to her hand would have been lost on her. Hermione really liked Harry, in a completely platonic way, but it was stronger than she felt for any other of her friends. Almost frightening so. It seemed as if she'd known him all her life, faced odds together greater than her imagination. Impossible, because she had only known him for exactly fifty-one and a half days. Which was no basis on which to be deeply committed to another person in friendship.

It just seemed so natural.

"My best friend will be stopping by after school." Harry said abruptly.

Tucking one final tuft behind his ear, Hermione removed her hand, watching him intently.

"My lover, actually, this summer." he fidgeted, and looked up almost nervously at her. As if he was just confessing for the first time his sexual preference.

"This summer?"

"We tried, but it wasn't right. We realized that we were both destined to be forever friends with each other." He kept his head down, but his eyes darted up and studied Hermione through his fringe.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Harry mumbled and wondered why it had come over him to suddenly spill this to Hermione.

"What's his name?" she asked, supporting her head on her fist, elbow perched upon the table.

"Cedric," answered Harry softly, fondly.

Hermione tilted her head, looking at Harry through brown lashes. On his face every emotion showed, and if he did manage to keep his face bland, his thoughts blazed like beacons from his eyes with an intensity that was almost startling. He looked like an ordinary young man, but somewhere within him burned a personality that could flatten you with one look or warm you to the core with a smile.

And right now on his face was the latter, a smile that was so joyous at being able to have his friends, all of them, together.

Automatically, Hermione found herself smiling, too.

--

Break was almost over when the two friends found themselves hurrying through the hallway towards Chemistry. Hermione, who had a book pressed to her chest said, "We're running a little late, we'd promised Ron to meet him about fifteen minutes ago."

Harry nodded, and put an extra little speed in his step. Luckily for them, Snape's classroom was located sub-level and thus not far away and required no stair-jogging. The first time Harry had entered the chemistry class he'd been vividly reminded of a dungeon. And just like in medieval times, being down here meant torture too.

Nearing their destination, they could see Ron leaning in a relaxed fashion against the wall, his red hair smoothed backwards, wet from having taken a shower after one of his practical lessons, and not drying with the humid weather.

"Heya guys!" he greeted, "Little late, aren't we?" he added, frowning playfully at Hermione.

"Sorry about that, really," Hermione apologized, touching Ron's shoulder almost shyly.

"Too late now, Hermione, I was already feeling lonely, and deserted, with my own girlfriend forgetting about me and all." he muttered, turning his fists a couple times in front of his eyes like he was wiping away tears.

"Oh, poor thing," Hermione said flatly, crossing her arms at the display, "What ever could I do to make it up to you?"

Pretending to be thinking very hard, Ron rubbed at his chin, eying the young woman, "I can think of something that would make it all better," he said airily, looking perfectly innocent.

"Hmm… Let's see…" Hermione said in a husky tone, standing on tiptoe to give him a lingering kiss.

Harry rolled his eyes at the ceiling, but a corner of his mouth tugged up nevertheless.

"Shite, Granger, how can you be so desperate? The Gods only know where the bloody hell he's been grovelling around lately. You might catch a disease." A much hated and too familiar voice wafted from behind the couple.

"You fucking prick!" Ron snarled viciously at the blonde, his hands balling into fists, "You think you're oh-so smart, don't you Malfoy? Think you can saunter along and order everybody around, huh, spouting pathetic shit at people who don't take your crap in their stride! You're just such a friggin' show off." By the time he had finished his sentence, Ron's whole face had flushed scarlet and his voice had gone scratchy.

"Now you listen to me you little brat," Draco drawled in response, taking a challenging step closer, "You must have been about the biggest mistake I've ever seen walking around on the face of the earth and I must say I'm embarrassed in your mother's place. If I had been her I would've had an abortion before the problem managed to grow."

Harry was by now staring in genuine resentment at the gorgeous blond. With a sharp stab of pain in his stomach he noted the completely pained look on his friend's face. "Lay off, Malfoy," he barked.

"Can it Potter, before you hurt yourself," Malfoy brushed him off, keeping his attention focused on the redhead.

Ron had moved to stand almost flush against the blond, "This is war, you blond fuck, and I'm going to teach you a lesson that'll put you on your place even if it'll kill me."

Snorting derisively at that, Draco threw his head back and let out a bitter laugh, "Yeah I'd like to see that when it happens. Incompetent fool."

And with that last remark the bell rang signalling the start of their chemistry class.

After letting himself drift along with the tide of classmates and verbally abusing Malfoy in an effort to make Ron feel better, Harry found himself slumping at his desk, chin propped up his fist. He was angry, feeling vengeful and more than a bit confused. He really didn't know what to think about Malfoy anymore. Even Hermione's eyes had held a wounded sentiment, as if betrayed by someone she had been willing to give a second chance.

Harry just felt guilty. How could he have ever even thought about Malfoy in an even remotely romantic fashion? After what the blond bastard had said, it was morally incorrect to harbour any sort of non-violent feeling towards him. And to think that only good half an hour ago, Hermione and he had been inclined to think otherwise.

Faithfully sitting next to Ron, the latter somewhat placated by Harry's fierce attitude, the two friends dutifully watched the clock as it inched terribly slowly forwards. Time was relative. Especially in Snape's classes; one moment it would appear as if the session would never end, time stretching in pure torture, another day you might be praying for a few precious minutes more, when completing a test. For which Harry routinely failed.

He drowsily regarded Snape drawl in his usual acerbic manner, paying absolutely no attention, until he heard 'you'll be working in pairs'. It was then his head shot up and he elbowed Ron rather harshly in the ribs, causing his red-haired friend to jolt out of his pleasurable slumber with a slurred 'wassgoingon'.

This, however, did not slip by unnoticed by Snape's ever so perceptive, withering glare, "Aaah yes, Mr. Weasley," he said with a dangerous sort of patience, "Why don't you go sit next to… Miss. Bulstrode."

Harry noticed his friend sink back into his chair with a whimper, sliding down until his nose came barely above the edge of his desk. It didn't seem to be Ron's day.

"As for Mr. Potter," Snape paused dramatically.

Harry closed his eyes, knowing that his fate was doomed to slow and agonizing death due to a traumatic nerve-breakdown. He could nearly taste Snape's self-induced triumph on the air.

"Next to Mr. Malfoy."

There was a nearly inaudible thud as Harry Potter let his head smack against the tabletop, pens and drawers vibrating as he did so. This was unfair. Life was unfair. Lady Fortuna was one sadistic bitch.

So there he was, five minutes later, sitting next to Draco Malfoy, glaring at him as if the old saying about looks having the power to kill was true. Draco glared back fervently wishing that Potter would drop dead. Or at least falter from the maliciousness of his gaze. The wordless truce that had been called during break was now barely worth a bitter laugh.

Needless to say, neither of them was very pleased with this particular seating arrangement. They were supposed to do an experiment with some of the funny looking powders and test-tubes scattered on the working-table in front of them, but as Harry had been so very interested in the way the hands of the clock had been moving at such leisurely rate, he had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to do.

Meanwhile, Draco was grinding his teeth together. Snape had just dropped two places on his favourite teachers list. And why was Potter just standing there like a complete imbecile?

"Hello, Potter, co-operation please?" he hissed at his partner for the duration of almost another forty minutes.

Sending him an absolutely vile look, Potter glared at him, keeping his mouth stubbornly shut.

Draco shrugged, "Fine, be that way. At least do something useful and get me some of this." He instructed, tapping the end of his ballpoint pen against the page of his chemistry book.

For a moment the other just stared blankly at the page, looked up with an uncomfortable expression on his face and then lapsed in moody silence. Draco just arched a haughty eyebrow at him.

"I don't know what it is." Potter ground out softly. And although barely louder than the merest of whispers, the pure venom was soaked into every syllable.

Drawing a steadying breath, he answered, "The white jar with the green labelOn the top shelf."

He pressed his thumb in the pressure point above his eye as the other stomped off. Why did he always have to be surrounded by absolute morons? Like Weasley, who, by the way, had absolutely no right to be having a wonderful, romantically involved relationship with someone, when Draco himself could only dream about that. He'd admit it to no other, but he was so fucking jealous of Weasley. A terrible truth, because he spend most of his time publicly spiting those things he actually craved so badly. He was just so lonely, achingly lonely and he could only find release in his anger. In the back of his mind he did realize that what he had flung at Weasley had been cold, even by his standards. But some of the tension in his chest had lightened for the time-being, though it would only be so long before it throbbed back to life twice as painfully as it had been. It had been almost three and a half year since someone had touched him with non-platonic intensions. At least by someone whose attentions he could return.

Lately, he had begun to question if he would ever –could ever- again meet someone whom he could fall in love with.

Frustrated, not only by his corny train of thought, but also by the curious fact that Potter still hadn't returned, Draco pushed himself up and strode towards the storage room to see where the mannerless cretin had gone off to.

"Potter what a-" he began to snarl, but only got that far.

Standing on tiptoe, arms raised high above his head, was Potter, ineffectively trying thus to reach the top shelf for the white jar with green label. The action separated his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, showing a strip of hard torso, tan paling with the coming of winter. A taut, muscled stomach curved inward towards his abdomen and a dusting of dark hair trailed from his navel down and into elastic band of his boxers.

Something deep inside of Draco hurt. Badly. Terribly. Maybe it broke. Maybe it just clicked into place. Maybe nothing happened, because it had been there all along. But that very instant, with a flash of fright, Draco realized that he was already losing the bet he'd shaken on with Alex.

This knowing slid into him neatly, like the sheer blade of a knife. But more importantly, however clichéd it might seem, Draco knew that he just had to touch him. The urge just hung there, in his chest, pressing against his lungs, like a tangible something. He tried to swallow against it, but instead it just swelled, and was now pressing against the inside of his belly, too. Never had he so badly wanted to touch another, and rationally thinking about it was just silly. It was more like an ancient instinct that stirred; settling down behind his eyes, but also on his heart, sniffing the air experimentally.

He did not, in fact, touch him where he obviously wanted to; not where his spine could be seen curving inward above the band of boxers, where the shirt was still lifted up and exposed the skin. Instead, as if on its own accord, Draco's left hand came up and settled between Harry Potter's shoulder blades. The other rose above their heads and took hold of the jar. Apparently it took only his two or three inches in extra height to reach where Harry couldn't. Potter was warm, and very much alive under the palm of his hand, though he had frozen still. He fancied he could feel the rhythmic beat of the young man's heart through the layers of clothing and human tissue.

Draco's hand dropped away, and his other offered the jar wordlessly. Surprised he found that his reckless actions didn't make him nervous at all; instead there was only a deep calm as he met the intense stare of the other.

Potter's eyes dropped to the jar; before darting back up. As if it were more than just an object they'd use for their chemical experiment. Maybe it was.

No, Draco was sure it was something. What, he didn't really understand himself. He was only very sure that if Potter did not accept the green-labelled jar he'd… Damn. He didn't want to care. Not about Potter's opinion of him or about the reason for his angry silence. He wasn't a friend; they didn't know each other, they-

Further retrospect was forgotten when Potter took the jar, frowned at him, as if unsure what to make of him and subsequently turned away and walked out of the storage room.

A few seconds passed with Draco gazing into nothingness when he suddenly realized he'd been holding his breath. For how long he didn't know, but it had been long enough to make his lungs burn. He drew in an audible gulp of air.

Somewhat disoriented he followed Potter's example and walked back into the class. At their table, his partner was already pouring substances into numerous test tubes.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Potter looked up at him through his fringe, "Chemistry?" he tried.

Draco identified what was in the tubes and what else the other had prepared. "I don't think so." He said with a snort, "Move over, let me do the thinking. You stand right there and try to look reasonably intelligent. Pretending can't be that hard, even for you."

Potter's jaw clenched, but he didn't object, neither did he agree. He did remain where he was standing, and watched as Draco moved about, and handed him, from time to time a vial, or a bottle.

"Pour about 150 mL of 0.1 M dextrose into that bottle over there," Draco commanded as he jotted down something in his loopy scrawl.

Hands hesitatingly flitting over the tabletop, Potter tried to decide what might seem to him to be the likely '0.1 M dextrose' the blonde was talking about. Draco regarded him exasperatedly, shaking his head. "Honestly, Potter, you can't not know what to do. It's elementary. I think I could understand that you're bad at chemistry, but…" he arched an eyebrow, awaiting some sort of explanation.

Potter just ducked his head and a muscle near his eye jumped. Trying to ignore him.

"I'm just asking, Potter." Draco said, tilting his head to catch the other's eye.

For a while Potter pretended not to see the photographer's imploring look, his frown even morphing into a scowl of frustration. Eyes still anchored to the tabletop, "Look, I don't know what you want from me, but cut it out okay?"

Draco's face contorted, "What? I'm just asking! What's your problem?"

This time Harry's face came up, and his expression wasn't promising, "This whole buddy-buddy thing! First you go ahead and act like a complete wanker and now you're being all… weird. So just stop it, okay?"

"Weasley deserved that." Draco countered, but even as it was leaving his mouth he knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

Potter rounded on him, bringing his nose mere inches from Draco's. He prodded a finger viciously in the blonde's chest, "That is a load of rubbish, and you know it! Somehow you think that I would forget the fact that you've just been talking out of your arse to Ron and happily engage in some polite chit-chat! You've got some nerve, Malfoy and-" he was on the verge of blurting out something else, but he seemed to swallow it before he could vocalize it and backed off.

Draco just gaped at the dark haired youth for a moment, unbelieving that the 'new kid' had just managed to put him in his place. Just as he had cooked up some nasty, though belated, retort, Harry spoke again.

"Look, I'll cooperate with this whole chemistry… issue, if you just can the shit." Harry said. He sounded tired all of a sudden.

Then it came to Draco. Potter did not hate him. Like Granger, he did not hate Draco, despite the long list of reasons he had given them on occasion to rightfully do so. In fact, Potter felt guilty for not all-out abhorring him. He might not have liked Draco, but he still did not hate him.

"I always use fresh shit, never canned." Came Draco's flippant reply.

For a second or three, Potter just blinked. Then spontaneous laughter bubbled up, a rich sound that seemed to rub against Draco sensuously, but only for a moment, because he tried to swallow it as soon as it escaped his throat. He ended up coughing miserably.

Draco clapped him dutifully on the back when Harry leant on the desk for support when he didn't get enough air. "Don't go dying on me, Potter, I'm not sure how I'll explain that to Granger. I don't think she'll believe me if I said that you laughed yourself to death."

The other had a hand to his chest when he came up again, face still flushed. He looked at Draco with a frown, "You're a real card, Malfoy."

"You forgot downright shaggable, staggeringly handsome, intelligent, funny, charming,…" He went on with his list like that until he ran out of fingers to tag his 'treats' on. "Well, you get my point, I'm perfect."

Harry was leaning against the desk, pursing his lips skeptically. "I think you forgot a notoriously sadistic bastard, a narcist, annoying as hell, a vengeful little bugger, a poser …" He too, raised a finger for every treat he came up with. With all ten digits pointing up, he smirked and wiggled them in Draco's face, "Well, you catch my drift; you're the bane of my existence."

"Pssh, rubbish." The blonde said, "Everybody loves me. Besides, I've got a nice ass."

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"The whole buddy-buddy-thing."

"Sheez, Potter," Draco threw up his arms looking slightly frustrated, "You're a demanding little runt, aren't you? First it's all; don't pick on Ron," he used a terribly annoying pouty voice as he said it, "–as if Weasley shouldn't be able to take care of himself by now, and now it's; don't be friendly to me. Well fine, be that way, but you sound like you're having your time of the month Potter. Just don't take it out on me."

Harry blinked, opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it and just shook his head with a mildly confused frown.

Of course, Draco couldn't let it go. "What?" he prodded.

"I think you should lay off the coffee, old boy, because you're way hyper today. I don't think I've ever heard you say as much in the past month and a half as you just did now." He wasn't looking at Draco, instead copying some notes the blonde had made on his own worksheet.

The other just stared at him, didn't seem to be able to think of a reply and pointed down instead; "Your lace's loose."

Making a face at the abrupt change of topic, Harry just turned away from him, fed up with the young man and then reached down to tie his lace.

Draco tried not to stare too blatantly, but with Harry bending down to tie his shoe, his loose jeans were pulled snug over his backside and it was hard but to look at anything but that. Potter might be on the skinny side, but he had one nice ass.

When he straightened up again, Draco pretended to be busy, wearing a private smirk that Harry found very disturbing.

"What do we do now?" he asked, looking at him warily from the corner of his eye.

"Add 6 mL of 3 M NaOH solution and 4-5 mL of indigo carmine solution." Draco continued with his familiarly supercilious expression.

"Of course, I'll add 7 ml of 3 something stuff and some other stuff that is indigo Caribbean stuff. Wonderful, no problem, piece of cake." Harry said, rubbing his hand together in an anticipating motion.

Dragging a hand over his face, Draco gestured desperately at the desk, "Just hand me that damn vial over there."

"Yessir."

Draco felt the cool slender glass object being pushed into his hand. Ignoring Potter's horrible grin, Draco narrowed his eyes in concentration. With a pipette he carefully added some drops to the subtstance…

At which the beaker promptly melted, burning a big, black hole through the desk, emitting some foul-smelling fumes.

If it hadn't been for Harry's surprisingly sharp reflexes, the substance would have scorched its way through Draco's skin too, but the literature student had yanked him away from any possible danger at the first sign of instability the substance had shown; resulting in the both of them toppling over rather ungracefully. Fortunately for Draco, his saviour also provided to be a nice buffer between him and the cold -not to mention hard- tiled floor. No such luck for Harry though, seeing as he caught the impact of the collision full-force, now also with the added weight of Draco's body. With a groan, he hit the back of his head sharply against ground.

For a moment the both of them just lay in a tangle of limbs on the ground, Draco staring up at the ceiling in undisguised surprise, trying to gather his wits.

Underneath him, Harry groaned in dismay, bringing a hand up to his head. To his everlasting alarm he was not only lying on top of Harry, his head resting in the dip where the shoulder connected to the torso and his bum in the vee of Harry's legs, but the latter was also very pale and wan looking.

And to his own immense mortification the first thing that came out of his lips was, "Are you okay?"

Harry just scrunched his face up and brought his other hand to cover the back of his head gingerly, where a spectacular bump was starting to grow. All he managed was, "Ouch."

Meanwhile Draco had rolled off him, still watching Harry with a distressed grimace on his face, shaken by what had just happened. He sat awkwardly at the other's side, wondering if the other might have a concussion. He picked up Harry's glasses and checked them. They seemed to be in one piece, as far as he could see.

Hermione and Ron came to a stumbling halt, dropping to their knees with a sharp thud on the tiled floor, heedless of the nice bruises they would show afterwards. As carefully as he could, Ron propped Harry up, who was looking somewhat cross-eyed. Hermione accepted the spectacles Draco offered her.

"I think they are in one piece." He said.

Twisting them around between slender fingers, Hermione nodded, "They seem to be."

"Harry, mate, talk to me buddy." Ron tried.

Harry was sitting independently now, and was clutching his head with both hands; as if he were afraid it would split in two. "I hate chemistry." Came the muffled reply.

"Hear, hear." Ron agreed, chuckling and giving him a pat on the back.

And the next thing they knew Snape was towering over them looking patently chagrined and positively vengeful, "What did you do?" Came the question in a sharp whisper, which also made the delicate moment evaporate and backfire.

Draco immediately pointed at Harry while Harry did visa-versa.

"You gave me the wrong ingredient!" the blonde shouted with a dark scowl, in an attempt to defend himself.

A sly smile crept on Harry's face, "You were the one who told me to hand you that vial."

"You weren't listening! I told you to-" he paused. He had. He glared at Harry, who favoured him with a look to match his own. "If you weren't such an imbe-"

"Both of you: detention!" Snape screamed over their bickering, effectively causing both boys to snap their jaws shut with a 'click'. "Malfoy because I deemed you smart enough not to trust Mr. Potter's challenged intellect, and Mr. Potter just because… you really, really get on my nerves. Even Longbottom didn't mess this one up."

Harry's jaw dropped in a completely woeful fashion, not able to cope with the distinct injustice with which he'd just received detention.

--

"Hey Harry!"

Looking sourly over his shoulder at the prompting of his name, Harry saw Darragh and Dean padding up to him, both wearing knowing smiles. News really travelled fast at Hogwarts.

He was sitting in the gym, in an incredibly foul mood, staring disinterestedly at the group responsible for the live music at Halloween currently busy with lifting amps and hooking up microphones. Hermione stood in the midst of the chaos, on a little stool so she had some sort of overview, giving her companions instructions. Her fists planted on her hips, and her bushy hair tied messily together in a high bun, Hermione looked in her element.

Their last course teacher had been absent, so Harry and Ron had gone along with Hermione –who was excused from class anyway for the rehearsal. The music crew had been setting up for an hour now and more friends had come over to watch. Of course, not anybody could stroll in like that, just friends and acquaintances, otherwise it would be a right circus. There weren't that many of them hanging around anyway, about a dozen, not more. Most were giving helping hands. Of course Harry had chosen to fume some more in private, not that he knew anything about instruments to begin with.

"Is it true you blew up your bench during Chemistry?" Dean asked eagerly.

Harry blinked, "What?"

"Yeah, Draco told me there was barely anything left of it after class! That's bloody awesome, I wish I was there! Honestly," said Darragh, sounding genuinely remorseful.

"It wasn't my fault!" Harry exclaimed in outrage, "He told me to give him a vial and then he even poured it in himself!"

"Then why did you get detention?" Dean wondered.

"Because it's Snape, and because he loathes me. And he couldn't give his favourite student a detention and leave me alone, now could he?" Harry said bitterly, "Besides if I hadn't pulled Malfoy away he'd have blown up himself. He should be grateful."

"You rescued Malfoy?" Darragh echoed eagerly, "How valiant of you, how…" he paused, and in the next few second his face transformed into the epitome of wickedness, "How utterly romantic!"

"SHUT UP D!" Harry barked at him, lacking enough eyes to glare both at Dean, who was laughing his ass off, and at Darragh, who was wearing an expression that couldn't mean much good. The look on the latter's face meant that in his mind he was plotting some new kind of apocalyptic scheme that Harry had really no desire to be part of.

"Besides, I don't know where you got your information, and if it was Malfoy, then he's lying, 'cause we certainly didn't blow it up. It just sort of melted…." Harry snapped defensively.

"Same difference. It still died." Dean countered, looking thoroughly pleased. "I really damn myself for not choosing Chemistry."

"Yes, great, I'm happy that you two are so entertained, but at least you didn't get detention." Harry mumbled, sucking in a breath that had his cheeks puffing out.

"Poor baby," Darragh cooed, patting at his hair, but didn't look at all sorry for him.

"Hiya Harry," Finbar greeted, plunking down next to Harry, "I heard you had a productive chemistry lesson."

Harry shot his friend an incredulous expression, "Where did you hear that? How come everybody knows? Isn't there a thing like 'don't embarrass the kid who got detention'?"

"Now where is the fun in that?" Dean said rhetorically, with Darragh nodding in assent.

"I heard it from Jinx who heard it from Luna who overheard Padma talking about it to Cho, who was actually in your class and, by the way, has a huge crush on you." Finbar rapped it off, while trying to confiscate a sharp pointy object his brother had started waving around.

"Who's Jinx?" Harry asked. Then he words sank in, "Who? Padma?"

"Jinx's our cousin, you've met her before, dummie," Darragh supplied with a pout when Finbar managed to separate him from the pocket knife. "And Padma's the one with a crush Blaise, remember, it happened like, you know, at break, today precisely. Cho's the one fancying the pants off you."

Harry squirmed. Obviously he should say something really smart now, for the awkward moment to be over, but instead he was saved by his cell phone.

"Hullo? Oh, hi Cedric… yeah. Oh shit, sorry, I'm inside the building, but I'll come and get you in a sec… sure, that' alright. Be right there, bye."

He locked his phone and glanced up to find Darragh doing the same thing. He was positively glowing, "Orion's here!"

"Marvellous," Finbar answered tonelessly.

Darragh, wisely, ignored him, "Who's Cedric?"

"You'll see in a moment. But wait a second; I'm going to get Hermione and Ron."

After collecting his two best friends, the six of them made their way towards the main gates of the building. Hermione was hurrying them along, not wanting to be missed too long from practice, and not trusting most of her partners with the expensive equipment and an over-eager attitude. Colin Creevey, for one, would have electrocuted himself just now, if it hadn't been for Fred Weasley.

On their way out, they were joined by Alex, who came flying down the stairs in a hurry. She looked as if she were meaning to go to the gym, but she spotted Harry and her typical devil-may-care grin slipped onto her face.

"Man, you've really gone and pissed Snape off, haven't you? We could hear him hollering two floors up. Tonks was in hysterics, I think she-" Alex gushed, before making a funny face. After sneezing loudly, and very unladylike, she completed in a nasal tone "-likes you. Excuse me by the way."

"Bless you. Snape was pissed, that's for sure, got both me and your beau in detention," said Harry.

"Oh, but you don't know the whole story," Darragh announced mercilessly, "Harry saved Draco. Like in the movies."

"Keep your gob shut!" Harry hissed at him.

Ron, thankfully, was willing to put him out of his misery, changed the subject without being too obvious, "Oh, by the way, mate, my brothers want to know what you added at the end, you know what made the solution corrosive."

Shrugging theatrically, Harry answered, "If I had known, I wouldn't have gone ahead and given it to ferret-boy, now would I? It's not as if I like detention, really."

They were halfway down the gravel road by now, and Orion came sauntering up to them calmly. Darragh would have perked his ears and wagged his tail if he'd been a dog, because he practically bounded up to him in a frenzy and tackled him. Harry wondered if they hadn't clacked teeth together with that force of impact.

"I think someone's desperate. There's still a bed for you if you don't want to face this night." Ron commented to Finbar.

Finbar was just frowning at Orion. The frown turned into a scowl when he saw the blond putting his hands firmly on Darragh's behind. It turned into a glare when he squeezed.

"Shouldn't they be coming up for air anytime soon?" Dean questioned. Their mouths were covering each other's in a way that made him vaguely worried.

"Maybe Orion lost something?" Alex commented idly.

"Are you timing this Harry?" Hermione asked.

He nodded, "One minute fifty three seconds…"

Ron whistled, impressed.

When, eventually, they did come up for air, Darragh looked thoroughly dazed and more than a little glassy eyed. Orion had an arm wrapped snugly around his shoulders, and his already short spiky hair looked even more mussed than it had been. It might have seemed like a plain hormonal teenager fit, but Harry saw the way Orion had the pad of his thumb rubbing softly in the nape of Darragh's neck and the way Darragh let out a gust of air, as if some physical pain had been lifted from him.

Finbar seemed out for revenge, because he rounded on Alex and gushed, "Honey-pie!" throwing his arms wide.

For a moment Alex didn't catch on, but then grinned and replied, "Bunny-bums! Oh, I've missed you so!"

They did a ridiculous impression of slow-motion running at each other, and upon contact, Finbar dramatically swept her away in his arms and tilted her back to perform a kiss worthy of the most mushy romance award ever. Finbar's long hair shielded their faces, and they could hear Alex' uproarious laughter, but other than that it looked pretty realistic.

When they had finished their act, they turned expectantly to their audience to receive applause. Minus Darragh and Orion, that is.

Finbar added extra to it by pretending to rub his face clear of drool with his sleeve. Alex was fanning herself daintily and turned simpering eyes to the tall man besides her.

Blowing a raspberry seemed the best Darragh could come up with, but he had turned a colour at least four times as deep as the flush he'd had after Orion snogged him senseless.

"Hey," Alex spoke up, poking Finbar in the ribs, "Do I get to call you bunny-bums permanently now?"

"If I can call you my ravishing bedroom vixen." He retorted.

Alex pretended to consider that, rubbing her chin and squinting as if in deep thought. "I could live with that. It's a mouthful though, compared to bunny-bums."

"I'll make an abbreviation, my little RBV." He offered.

"Grand, that's a deal." They shook hands on it and grinned cheekily at each other.

"Talk to the hand because the face ain't listenin'" Darragh said, imitating stereotypical American slang, but he still couldn't hide his reddened cheeks.

"Entertaining as this may be, I'm going to pick up my friend, before he thinks I've forgotten him." Harry blurted over whatever comeback the older brother might have had for that as he checked his watch and realized his friend must have been standing there for over fifteen minutes by now.

"Have no fear, Cedric's here." A voice suddenly said from behind them.

As one, the group turned. Harry face broke into one of his dazzling, thousand-watt smiles, when he came to face Cedric. "Great, you found it!"

"Like it was so hard to miss," Cedric sniggered, with an arched eyebrow, "Just follow the noise. And it wasn't that hard to miss the entrance gate."

"True that, anyway, guys; Cedric," he said putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and turning them both the face the group, "Cedric, the guys."

"I think you need to check up on your facts Harry, I didn't know when we ever became 'guys'." Hermione said with a smile, trying to seize Cedric up without being obvious.

"Yeah, you'd think we'd notice." Alex murmured, looking down as if checking for her bosom.

"You'd think I'd notice." Ron said, with a meaningful wink at his girlfriend.

Harry stage-whispered loudly, "Try to ignore the bad behaviour, and don't encourage them. It gets worse. Stick close to me and don't make any sudden movements…"

Cedric nodded conspiratorially, bending over slightly so Harry could reach his ear, "Right, got it."

"What's that little confabulation over there? You don't happen to be talking about us, pray tell?" Darragh spluttered.

"Big word of the day part two: confabulation." Hermione quoted, holding up a finger.

"Swallowed the dictionary again, D?" Dean asked.

"Or did you find it poking around in Orion's ear with your tongue, did you?" Ron said casually, pretending to examine his fingernails.

Darragh was flabbergasted, and just stood gaping open-mouthed at the redhead for a moment before his brain kicked back into action again, "If that's so then you ought to be a lot smarter by now, wouldn't you Ron. We all know Hermione's got a brilliant mind."

"Ooh, comeback." Dean said.

"Nice one." Alex grinned.

"Okay, okay, wonderful, really, but break it up you guys, we really need to get back. God knows what Colin's gone and done now." Hermione said with a shake of her head.

"I'm already preparing to shout: 'Oh my God, they killed Colin!'" Ron said.

"You bastards!" Harry added.

With that, they retraced their steps back into the building and out of the ghastly weather.

--

Draco was trying to concentrate, despite the terrible ruckus that had erupted ever since Granger so suddenly needed to go for a walk. Wonderful. Convenient. He didn't know what to do with a bunch of stampeding teenagers –never mind that the greater half was of his own age. The only thing he had done before was bullying into submission and he had quickly confirmed that it was not a productive manner. So he let Granger play baby-sitter. She was good at it. She had to be, with Weasley.

He strumming a little on the acoustic guitar and muttered a few lyrics under his breath.

Someone slammed on the piano keys and Draco cringed, nearly biting his tongue off. He looked up and the ire that flashed from his eyes must have been promising because the nearby group of musicians was suddenly concentrating immensely on what they were doing. Creevey was scampering around, being over-excited, and tripped over some wires Corner had not yet gotten around to taping to floor. He keeled straight over and would have smashed into the drum set if it hadn't been for Chang who sort of grabbed him by the front of his shirt on the last moment.

"I'll tape him to the floor… I swear…kid's a bloody disaster." he growled under his breath.

The next thing he knew a pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind and squeezed the air out of him.

"She's driving me insane… God! Fuck! Ruddy, bloody, stinking-"

"Skipped your medication today, Zabini?" Draco asked his friend.

The other just clung to him as if he really were a lifeline to sanity. He wasn't so much hugging him; it looked more as if he were preventing himself from having a nervous breakdown all over the place. The grip around Draco's torso was tight enough to be uncomfortable.

"Blaise." He tried to say in a reasonable sounding voice, "You can let go now."

"No! She'll come back, she's been following me ever since break, harping about- she's driving me mad!"

"I just think the poor child's got a serious crush on you. If you'd been a little more socially engaged you might have learned how to deal with it." He tried to pry the fingers away, but Blaise had laced them just under his ribcage.

Blaise's grip lessened and he took a step back, rubbing his temples. "But she's serious."

"So?"

"What do I say to that? She looks like she wants to marry me, buy a dog, have two point something kids and live in a house with a white picket fence! And I haven't really talked to her. She doesn't know me. And her friends are, you know, dropping hints and crap like that. It's like second year all over again. And where the bloody hell is Alex when you need her?" Blaise had his hands up in his hair, worsening the already curly mop. Rain really didn't agree with him.

"You need Alex to protect you from the scary girls?" Draco asked with a laugh sounding through his words.

"You might not have noticed, but she happens to be one. Anyway, she's good at keeping them off. Like garlic for a vampire. Only that she smells nicer, of course." He took a seat next to Draco and picked up another guitar; plucking experimentally at the strings.

"As I see it, you've got two options; just tell Padma that it's a no-no or shag her senseless and then run." He said matter-of-factly as his slender fingers flew over the strings and reconstructed the clumsy version of his friend's to perfection.

Blaise put the guitar down and just glared at Draco for a moment.

Pretending to not have seen the look, he mimed a look of sudden enlightenment, "Or you could actually date her."

"But I don't want to." Blaise actually sounded petulant when he said it; it really must be a down-day for him.

Shaking his head in defeat, hoping that Jinx would soon fix up that muddled little brain of his, Draco decided that he'd do better to just shut up. But really now, Padma was beyond persistent. And the Hogwarts grapevine said that Parvati was the bold one.

Girls. Like sharks really.

"Draco! Did you really melt your bench during chemistry?" Alex all but pounced on him.

"It's Potter's fault." He countered immediately.

Like sharks, all of them. He was glad to be a boy and not bear the terrible knowledge that he was going to be responsible for the downfall of mankind.

"Harry said –actually Darragh did, but never mind- that if he hadn't pulled you away you might've fucked yerself up." Alex said with a horrible, lopsided grin.

Draco wondered if she was on to him already. If she knew what he'd been thinking about a certain individual during a certain chemistry lesson with said certain individual…then he'd rather jump of the tower and die a quick, painless death.

"Oh so, it's Harry, now is it? Fraternizing with the enemy?" He really couldn't come up with anything better in such a short time, but he was afraid that he might start to blush otherwise.

For once, he was very glad to see Granger.

"Finally! Honestly Granger, what took you so long? Couldn't have been Weasley… I wouldn't give him credit for his stamina, exactly." He drawled, raising to his full height and leering at her.

Hermione flushed scarlet and turned away from them frowning, mortified. Fortunately Ron was among his friends in the gym, having a good time and hadn't caught the scathing remark.

Alex elbowed him viciously in the ribs, almost doubling him over. "Don't be an ass because you've got to take it out on someone else. Be a prat to me or Blaise, and if you can't do that just shut up. I know that you've said something to Ron, and just be happy that I don't know enough of it to kick your sorry scrawny ass, blondie. I'm sick of your attitude." She whispered at him, not to publicly embarrass him.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, the ever protective gesture, and gave her a decidedly horrid look, but kept his pretty mouth shut. He turned away to negotiate with Granger about what was to happen next.

"Well, that put him in his place," said Blaise.

"He's been sniping again lately. Something's bothering him." An introspective look slipped into her eerie eyes. "And it's bothering me, he'sreally bothering me." She made meaningful wringing motions with her hands.

Blaise gave a half-nod, and didn't really bother to say that if came down to that, she probably wouldn't even get her small hands around his neck. But, hey, why burst her bubble if it cheered her up.

Eventually he just said; "It's Draco, he'll always vent his anger on others to forget his own insecurities. That's just him, and don't think he'll change. And you're bossy, did you know that?"

Alex gave him a look. "I'm not bossy! And he doesn't need to change, just leave Ron alone. It's always Ron. I can't even imagine why." She was looking at her best friend's back, who was attempting to get a, rightfully so, annoyed Hermione Granger to answer him. She shook her head again. "I'm not bossy…" She repeated, but it sounded a little more questioning and worried now.

"Of course not! Who? You? Impossible."

"Yeah, alright, I get your point. Anyway, I'm off to join the public. Have fun." And with that she hopped of the makeshift stage and mingled with the rest of the crowd, all settling back to watch.

--

"Test, test."

The hoarse tenor resonated through the gym. It was looked nothing like professional, with everybody on the stage just standing relaxed, and murmuring among each other. They weren't even looking at the gym in general; after all they weren't performing or planning on putting on a show.

Harry was sitting with his back against the wall, Cedric next to him, both of them on the ground. The rest of his friends that weren't on stage were scattered around him, forming more or less a sloppy, asymmetric circle. The two friends were part of the circle, but had their privacy. There was a comfortable silence between them.

"Test, te-"

The microphone made a typical shrill shriek that seemed to go through flesh and bone. Harry flinched.

"Ruddy hell, Creevey, how many times do I have to tell you NOT TO TOUCH THAT!"

Through not the favourite person of the general crowd that occupied the gym, an appreciative chuckle ran through the hall at Draco's outburst. On stage, sitting behind her piano, Hermione cradled her forehead in the palm of her hand.

"Number two, test." Fred spoke into his. "Everybody set?"

George tapped the cymbals lightly, three times. Then the music began. At least, Fred began to coax a gentle melody out of his guitar.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner, Sometimes I feel like my only friend…"

"That him?" Cedric whispered into his ear.

Harry jumped physically; he'd been so absorbed at staring at the stage, like all of them were. But Harry had been particularly watching how the familiar, unreadable mask left Malfoy's face while he started singing, to make place for pure, genuine concentration.

"Yeah," Harry said with a nod, tearing his eyes away to look at Cedric. "How did you know?"

"I don't know, instinct." He answered, giving an apologetic shrug. "He is quite a looker, though."

"True, but it stops there, I'm afraid." Harry spat in the direction of the blond on the stage, anger fuelled again. He had heard what Malfoy had said about Ron to Hermione a minute ago. Cheapening their relationship like that.

"He really gets under your skin, doesn't he?" His childhood friend questioned in a low voice.

Harry clenched his fists almost painfully, "Like you wouldn't believe. There are times when he's almost pleasant and then he turns right around and becomes a real bastard."

Not knowing what to say, or what he was supposed to do, Cedric just sort of nodded. Teasing each other was fun enough, but when there had been something to talk about on a really emotional level- he was only a bloke, wasn't he? If it was something between the two of them, Cedric would have known what to say. But he didn't even know this guy, and he wanted to make Harry feel okay, but he had no clue whether his friend wanted him to agree on the bastard part, or the other way around.

"Not like it matters, really. Because, he's straight and even if there was a chance… he's not an even remotely nice person. Just handsome." For saying that alone, Harry felt awful, because it only confirmed that he'd been interested in the guy's looks and he didn't want to sound shallow. As if he'd been lusting after him.

And yet, deep inside a dark place he kept his darkest secrets, a thought surfaced silently; the physical need was different. But Harry didn't want it and tried to repress it. No, in a twisted way it was safe to focus on the pure physical lust. It was only that: lust, nothing more. He crammed the doubt away in the dark place and forgot it. Or at least he tried.

Finbar was looking at him again. Not eavesdropping, because he was sitting at the opposite side of the circle with Seamus, and the sound of Malfoy's hoarse voice washed over anything else that couldn't be murmured into one another's ear. And yet... just his gaze was enough to make Harry uncomfortable.

The eyes were very pale through the dark strands that flopped carelessly into Finbar's face. It felt as if he were looking through Harry, into him and was trying to dig up what Harry had just tried to murder, bury and forget about.

The moment was gone when Ginny all but threw herself at the young man from behind, and they ended up in a messy pile of three humans. Seamus was crushed at the bottom and looked blue, Finbar was half lying over him, and Ginny was sitting triumphantly upon them both.

She waved at Harry.

He waved back.

"Ron's sister, Ginny," he provided Cedric.

"Who she's sitting on?"

"Well, the only who looks the deadest is Seamus, Irish guy and he's really off his trolley, I can tell you." Harry said with snort, "And the one she's actually sitting on is Finbar, but you know that, he's Darragh's older brother."

Cedric was trying to keep up and his gaze bounced from one person to the next, "So Darragh's…"

"Yeah," Harry answered, not having to hear to question to know it, "The blond guy is Orion and…" Harry trailed off; he wouldn't believe what his own mind registered.

God only knows how preoccupied he must have been for the past few weeks, because for the first time Harry realized that Orion had a horrible scar over his left eye. It was one of those scars like his; one that stayed red even after years had passed. But it was by far bigger than Harry's: Orion's had split his eyebrow cruelly into two, disfigured the tender skin of his eyelid, and came to an abrupt stop on his cheekbone. But that was not the worst thing. Once; Orion would have had eyes so dark a blue that they might've looked obsidian. But the left eye had a blotch of clear blue in it, where the wound would've touched the surface. With that came the dawning shock that some of Orion's earlier motions or reactions got explained.

He was blind or partially blind at his left eye.

"What?" Cedric pressed.

"I just… I just realized that he's got a scar on his face." Harry said, his tone fluctuating in a way that made it seem like he didn't even believe his own words.

"I think it's because of how he carries himself," Cedric mused, staring intently at Darragh's lover, "Like there isn't anything to see, or a challenge to look at his face and cringe. He's proud, despite his face."

"Good for him," Harry murmured.

Both of them were looking at the pair of young men, trying not to be too blunt in their staring.

Darragh's mouth was moving, obviously telling him something and grinning about it, Orion just pretended to at least look mildly disapproving, but couldn't quite keep his mouth straight. At once the both of them broke out in uproarious laughter, clutching their stomachs in the effort. Then, also in perfect unison, they went silent. Golden eyes trailed over the other's face, Orion met it, blinked and stared forcefully at his hands. Darragh reached out and touched his lips to the scar, lingered, and then sat back.

Something in Harry's chest squirmed, and his hands went cold. He grinded his teeth forcefully together; willing the jealousy away. It was not aimed at either of the two personally, but at what they had between them. It irritated the lights out of him to have such… feminine desires. To be loved, held and to have someone to be there for you. At the same time he felt bad for thinking like a sexist macho guy. It seemed as if of lately he only ended up disappointing himself. For lusting after his best friend's rival, for being jealous of Darragh and Orion, for needing an emotional level in a relationship, or just the needing someone part, … too many others.

Cedric gave him an almost painful jab in his side. Harry slouched sideways, grabbing at his body and looking startled.

"No brooding. You know I hate it when you do that, taking everything on your shoulders and blaming yourself for things. Your eyes go blank." Cedric was drilling his eyes into Harry's very intently, trying to open the floodgate behind which Harry hid all his desires, his fears, his guilt and his insecurities. With a sinking feeling in his belly, he understood that he could do a lot, that Harry let him close, but not close enough to do just that. To give himself. To surrender.

He wondered what it would take.

Draco was still pouring everything he had into the words of a song on the stage, microphone clenched in white-knuckled hands. His voice filled the emptiness with a raw flood.

Cedric's hand crawled over the cool floor of the gym, and cupped Harry's fist when he encountered it. His fingers were cold to touch. After a long-stretched moment, Harry's fingers uncurled to twine between Cedric's. The pad of the latter's thumb smoothed over an icy digit, and the former gave a squeeze. With that single gesture more had been said than was ever possible with words, and they drew back.

Sometimes, physical gestures can do more than words.


Well, here you go! Chapter Nine finally done.

I'd like to thank BewilderedMuse, my beta, for all the trouble she went through of checking the chapter for mistakes and offering me advice. Thank you!

Title credits: From Yesterday is by 30 Seconds to Mars (my wonderful beta, BewilderedMuse, came up with it!)

Lyrics come from Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers.