Attraction, part ten

Pairings: Harry/Draco (will be!), Seamus/Blaise, past Harry/Seamus, Harry/Dean, Draco/Blaise, and Ron/other girls (Not sure of other pairings yet.)

Rating: PG-13 (so far – rating may go up)

Warnings: Slash, some bad language

Notes: fan fiction isn't a chore. This fic is just something I wanted to write to help my muse. More will possibly be added when I can think of more things to write. This doesn't have much of a plot, just so you know. The only plot going on, so far, is Harry and his sexuality. Plot? What plot? 0:)

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to J. K. Rowling.

To Henrietta: 'tata' was supposed to mean 'see you later', but I was just informed that it meant 'thanks' or 'thank you'. Let's ignore my error for now, huh? I shall correct it later.

To someone named Hey: Is this H/D? YES. –head/desk-

To everyone else: I'm sorry that this seems a bit late, but I've had troubles writing one of the scenes. After taking a small break, and then reading some of The Books of Magic, my muse finally got a kick start. This was supposed to have been done last week. So, again, I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy.

.-.

It was the middle of November already, with a few flakes on the ground, but the weather was mild. Tracey Davis loved the smell of winter and the look of snow dusting the trees and ground. It was a beautiful sight to her and she wouldn't put it past her new Gryffindor friend, Dean Thomas, to be outside right now, sitting underneath the usual tree with sketchbook and art supplies at hand. She had gone outside to look for him, but what surprised her was that it wasn't Dean that sat underneath the usual beech tree—it was Harry Potter.

He was all bundled up in his winter cloak and scarf, but she couldn't help notice the bright pink in his cheeks and redness on the tips of his ears. She wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting outside, but by the looks of things it looked as if it had been a while.

Determined to find out what was wrong with the famous Gryffindor boy, she continued to walk toward him, doing her best to look nonchalant. She still prided in her upbringing of being Slytherin and a bit rich, but she didn't find it so bad to want to get to know others from different houses. From what she remembered of her parents telling her, her grandmother was either a muggleborn (they used the word Mudblood) or a half-blood. It really didn't matter to her. What was so great about blood when purebloods were dying out? Love mattered more, didn't it?

At the sound of her footfalls, Harry lifted his head and stared at her warily. She smiled at him, hopefully in reassurance, and then sat down next to him, shoulders bumping.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," said Harry. "Do I… do I know you?"

She giggled. "Sorry, I guess Dean never told you about me? I'm Tracey Davis," she said, holding out a hand for him to take.

Harry clasped his hand (awkwardly because of the angle) in hers, squeezing it gently, and then let go. "Yeah, he mentioned you once, but I forgot. I guess that it's just such a shocker to see that you're a Slytherin."

"Of course," she said, smirking slightly. "That's most Gryffindors' reactions. Dean and I get along keenly. You used to date him?"

"Yeah," said Harry, ducking his head a little.

"That's ok. He said that you two are still good friends. I'm happy to hear that. So," she took a small breath, "what are you doing out here? Trying to catch your death of cold?"

Harry smiled a little. "No; don't I wish? No, I'm just out here to get away from everyone and everything for a while. Some alone time, if you will."

"And I'm intruding on your alone time, aren't I?"

"Oh, it's ok. I guess I don't mind," he blushed slightly.

"Such a gentleman. You know, I've heard that you're considered arrogant and selfish. I don't buy it, of course. You seem too sweet to be like that."

Harry's blush deepened. "Thanks, I think…"

"You're welcome. I did come out here to find Dean, but I guess he's still inside."

"Yeah, he's not feeling too good today," said Harry.

"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that. He should go to the hospital wing…"

"Oh, he's there right now. Poor bloke looks dead on his feet. I think he's caught the usual flu that's going around Hogwarts right now."

"You'll catch it if you're not careful," said Tracey.

"I'll be fine."

"You're so brave," she said with a bit of mirth. Harry smiled a little, possibly from embarrassment, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"No, just stupid."

"You're not stupid, you silly sod," she said meaningfully. "From what I've heard, you're rather intelligent. There are lots of rumors about you in Slytherin."

"Oh?" Harry's left eyebrow twitched. "Do tell."

"Well, some are good, some are bad. Which would you rather hear first?"

"I think I know most of the bad already," Harry sighed.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Well, like being arrogant and selfish, for one—I won't deny that I might have those traits, maybe a little. But I try not to. Also, I'm sure there are rumors about how I am since second year—about being a parselmouth. And so on and so forth."

"Ok, well… there aren't many good rumors, I'm sure you know. The one is the intelligent thing going around. I'm guessing it's true?" she smiled at his blush. "Um, the other one is how open you've suddenly gotten, with your sexuality and such. Uh… and then there's the ordeal about you surviving You-Know-Who a lot… well, that's taken as a bad thing, but I think it's good."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "You think it's a good thing that I've been surviving Voldemort's attempts to kill me so far?"

Tracey shivered, but he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from him saying Voldemort's name.

"Yeah—I'm—I don't think that you'll lose. I don't… you know… support You-Know-Who."

"Really?" said Harry, his face lighting up. "That's great!"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Not everyone thinks so, though. Well, they don't know for sure that I'm against You-Know-Who; they just know that I'm into—curious about—you Gryffindors. Um… I don't know if you should tell anyone else, just in case word gets around…"

"Don't worry," said Harry. "If I do, it'll just be my closest friends."

"Thanks, Harry," she smiled. They sat there in silence for a while, just enjoying it, and then Harry sighed. "What?" Tracey asked.

"Oh, it's just that this year has been rather weird lately. First I have a decent conversation with Blaise Zabini and now you."

"You talked to Blaise? When? And what about? Is it all right if I ask?"

Harry smiled a little. "It's ok if you ask. Yeah, I met him in the kitchens a couple weeks ago and we had a strange conversation. He's—" Harry snorted, making her raise an eyebrow. "Well, he admitted to have a crush on someone, and I'm supposed to find out from his crush what he thinks of him."

"You haven't done this yet?" she said, looking confused.

"Oh, I have—I mean, I tried—but he… he's acting odd."

"Who's acting odd? Blaise?"

"No, Se—I mean—Blaise's crush."

"Who does he have a crush on? I might be able to help."

"Well, ok. As long as you don't say that I told you."

"No problem," she said, making an X mark over her heart.

"Ok. Well, it's…" he leaned in close to whisper. "It's Seamus Finnigan."

"Oh!" Tracey squeaked. "Well, that makes perfect sense!"

"It does?" Harry blinked.

"Yes!" she grinned. "I've been noticing the odd looks between them. I would love to help you get them together."

"All right," Harry smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem, Harry," she said. She laid her head onto Harry's shoulder and sighed. "It's nice out, but I have a feeling that it'll only get colder. We should go in."

"Yeah, we should—" Harry started, but then was suddenly interrupted.

"So, you can't go at least a few weeks without having yourself a fling, can you, Potter?"

Harry and Tracey both gasped, standing up. Tracey was looking more embarrassed than Harry was, however.

"It's not what you think, Malfoy," said Harry, looking annoyed.

"Oh?" said Malfoy, raising an eyebrow.

"Harry's right!" Tracey shouted. "We were just talking, that's all!"

"And laying your head on his shoulder. I know what's going on. I'm not stupid."

Both Tracey and Harry snorted. Draco narrowed his eyes. "Not funny," he said.

"You're taking everything the wrong way!" Harry exclaimed. "There's nothing going on between us!"

Draco kept on looking skeptical. Tracey glared at him.

"Quit behaving like a know-it-all prat, Draco," she said. "I admit that Harry's cute, but I don't think of him in that way!"

Harry blushed slightly. "You think I'm cute?"

Draco was gritting his teeth and acting as if he wanted to say something, but then changed the subject.

"It's almost curfew," he said softly. "Go back to your dormitories."

Harry blinked in surprise, but Tracey said, "Fine. We will. Come on, Harry."

They left. Draco watched them go with a detached look.

.-.

"That was odd," said Tracey the moment they walked back inside Hogwarts. The warmth of the fires hit them immediately, and Harry could feel his nose and ears slowly thaw.

"Yeah, it was," he said. "I thought for sure that he'd at least keep on arguing until it was curfew, and then slap me with a detention for being out."

"He'd have to give me detention too, for being out after curfew. I think maybe he didn't want to give a fellow Slytherin a detention or something."

Harry worried his bottom lip for a bit as he mulled it over. It did almost seem like Malfoy was deciding on not giving Harry detention because Tracey was with—then again, he almost seemed… nice.

No way. Draco Malfoy acting nice? That thought was too strange.

"Are you going to talk to Seamus tonight?"

"Huh?" said Harry as he got dragged out of his thoughts.

"About Blaise?" she said.

"Oh! Oh, yeah. I will."

"Good. See you later, Harry," she said, waving as they parted ways. When Harry turned back around after waving back, he saw Hermione standing a few feet away from him, hands on hips, and looking intrigued.

"Harry James Potter, I am astounded—" Hermione started.

"It's not what you think!" Harry said right away, incredulous.

"Oh, I know what I saw. Those longing looks…"

"They weren't longing looks!"

"Then what do you call them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We're just friends. Seriously! I have no yearning desire to be with her in that way!"

"What's going on, then?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "I'll tell you, but not here. We need to go somewhere private."

After a while, they found a deserted classroom, and Harry told her everything he could. He even told her about the strange conversation he had with Blaise.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed for a bit, and then she pressed them in a thin line. She suddenly smiled.

"Oh! I think I can be of some assistance! You see, Seamus had already admitted to me that he has a crush on some Slytherin. So you say that the looks that Zabini and Seamus had shared together in the library sparked something? Oh! I'll bet anything it is Zabini that Seamus has a crush on!"

"Brilliant," said Harry. "Then it won't be as hard as I had thought. Now all I have to do is get them to admit it to each other. Tracey said that she was going to help me, but I might not need her help after all. Thanks, Hermione."

"You're welcome, Harry," she smiled.

Just as they were about to leave the room, the door had opened and there stood Draco Malfoy. Harry's eyes widened, cursing his luck. They should have gone straight to the tower! He didn't think that Malfoy would be able to follow him here.

"Well, well, well… this is a rather interesting day. One girl just won't satisfy you, will it, Potter? You have to go after Granger…"

Harry's face burned. "It's NOT what you think!"

"Harry's telling the truth!" said Hermione. "We weren't doing anything!"

"Hmm… I suppose I could believe you, but you two are out after curfew AND in an old abandoned classroom. What am I to think?"

"I admit we should have taken our conversation to the common room, but it was a bit urgent."

Draco looked unfazed. "Sorry, but duty calls. You both have detention tomorrow night."

Harry clenched his fists, doing his best not to lose his temper and just hit Malfoy square in the nose.

"Look," he said, "you really don't have to do this… you had just let me go a few minutes ago…"

"A half hour ago, actually."

"Whatever. You still could have just let us go back to our common room. Is it because we're both Gryffindors? Is the reason why you didn't give me detention before because I was with another Slytherin?"

Draco raised an eyebrow as he stared at Harry. Harry was getting more and more angry by Draco's silence by the second.

"Are you saying that I should just give Granger detention?" Draco finally said.

Harry furrowed his brow. "No! Just—just give me detention."

"How chivalrous of you, Potter," Draco smirked.

"It's my fault anyway!" Harry said before Draco could say anything more. "I'm the one that told her that I needed to talk to her straight away and decided on this empty classroom, so… just give me detention. Besides, Hermione's a prefect. She's allowed out after curfew."

"That's right," said Hermione with a small blush as though she had suddenly forgotten, too. "I am allowed. Also, I do have prefect duties to do tonight, which I should be getting to right this moment. So, if you'll excuse me, Malfoy, I'll be on my way."

"Fine," said Draco with a sneer. "Go away, then."

Hermione nodded once, and then turned to Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry…"

"It's ok," he said quickly. "Don't worry about it. It's not like I haven't had a detention before. Go on and do your prefect duties."

She smiled at him, nodding, and then left the two boys alone in the room. Harry and Draco stared at each other for a while—one with a superior smirk and the other with a brave, insolent look.

"So, Potter," Draco said with a smug smile, "detention with… who? Filch? Snape? Surely not Hagrid since you two get on so well. Hmm… Snape is a good pick, don't you think so, Potter?"

Harry sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

"Whatever."

"Nice to see that you're actually giving up. I thought for sure that you'd be trying to give me excuse after excuse so that you don't get a detention."

Harry shrugged. "I can handle Snape."

"Oh? You think so? We'll see about that, won't we?" Draco grabbed Harry's elbow and dragged him out of the room and toward the dungeons. Harry wasn't sure if he should be feeling worried at the particular moment. Maybe he was just too tired to care or felt a little indifferent about it all to feel anything remotely like worry.

After a while, almost halfway to Snape's office, Harry yanked his arm out of Draco's grasp. "I can walk on my own, thanks."

"I should hope so," said Draco smugly. "Heaven help us if the Wizard Savior can't do something as simple as walking by himself."

Harry glared at him heatedly. "Shut up. You're one to talk about walking on your own."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Draco sneered. He turned around so that he was now face to face with Harry. They stood there for a bit, glaring into each other's eyes.

"You're not that stupid, are you?" said Harry. Draco narrowed his eyes and was about to retort, but Harry continued. "Heaven help YOU if you ever decide to do things for yourself."

"I still don't understand what you're talking about, Potter."

"Well, let's put it this way: how often do you parrot your father?"

Draco grabbed onto Harry's tie harshly. "DON'T TALK ABOUT MY FATHER!"

Harry grinned. "A little tetchy, are we?"

"I'm warning you, Potter…"

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

Draco stared. "What hurts?"

"Being teased about your father." Draco sputtered, but Harry held up a hand. "I wasn't trying to tease you about your father this time, though. I meant it. How often do you copy things that your father does? You always seem to try being like him and not yourself."

"How dare you!" Draco snarled. "I am my own man—my own wizard!"

"Since when?" Harry dared. "I don't remember you acting like your own person. You're always sprouting off things that your father said or what he would think… do you even go as far as feel the same way he feels?"

"My father and I have a lot in common!" Draco shouted, his face going red.

"Only because you're trying to model yourself after him."

Draco glared at Harry hard for a moment, and then wrapped Harry's tie around his fist and towed him toward Snape's office.

"You know nothing, Potter! I look up to my father!"

"Yeah, even when he's in prison, then?"

Draco whipped out his wand and pointed it between Harry's eyes. "Don't—test—me."

Harry just kept staring at Draco, as if daring him, but then Draco broke the contact and continued to drag him toward their destination. Draco was grumbling things under his breath the whole way, and Harry only caught "…thinks he's always right, the prat… sticking his nose into other's business…"

Harry rolled his eyes.

They finally made it to Snape's office, to Harry's somewhat relief (if he had to listen to anymore bellyaching grumbles, he would have smacked Malfoy in the noggin), and Draco knocked on the door. They stood there at the door a little awkwardly. Draco kept glancing over at Harry, and Harry kept trying to ignore the looks Draco was giving him.

The door opened at last and there stood the Potions' Professor… in his pajamas. Harry fought not to laugh.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," said Draco, "but I have caught Potter out, after hours, and I was wondering if it's ok that he spend his detention with you."

"Now?" Snape grumbled. "Are you nuts, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, not now, sir," he chuckled nervously. Harry sighed in annoyance. "I meant that he could have his detention with you, er… when you're able, or whatever."

Snape folded his arms across his chest and glared down at them. "And you couldn't wait until morning to tell me that you have assigned Mr. Potter to me for detention? You had to come and wake me up?"

Harry wanted to say "Smooth move, Malfoy." But he didn't think he should test Snape's tolerance at the moment. He knew how annoyed Snape could get with simple student squabbling. Plus, he wanted to show Snape that he was the more mature one of the two. Draco was already having a heck of a time keeping himself from looking like a moron.

"Sorry, sir," said Draco. "It—it won't happen again. I guess I just got carried away with my duties…"

"So I've noticed," drawled Snape. "Just make sure Potter gets back to his common room and doesn't take a detour to the kitchens or something."

"Yes, sir," said Draco. "Good night, sir."

Snape grunted and then slammed the door shut.

"Rather grumpy when he's woken up, isn't he?" Harry smirked.

"Shut up, Potter. You'd be grumpy too if you had to endure all he had to."

"Oh, I'm sure," said Harry, rolling his eyes. Draco gave him a warning glare before grabbing onto the hood of his cloak and ushered him forward a bit rudely.

"Back to your common room, Potter," he sneered.

"All right, all right! You don't have to get so bossy, Malfoy."

"If someone doesn't then you'd always think that you had run of the whole castle. That's the headmaster's job, however, not yours. No matter how special you think you are."

"I don't think I'm special!" Harry snarled.

"Yeah, sure, Potter. Whatever you say."

Harry felt like hitting Draco across the head, but he willed himself to not give in to the temptation. If only Draco knew how Harry felt, if only he knew what kind of crap he had to go through—to endure—most of his life, then Malfoy would be singing a different tune. Harry was sure of it.

And that prat just kept on looking over at him as if he wanted to say something, but then decided not to. Harry wanted to grab and shake him until he finally coughed up what he wanted to say. Not only was his wand hand twitching, but so was his other one.

"I'll bet you enjoy following me all the way to the Gryffindor Tower," said Harry. He was a bit surprised that he decided to talk, but the silence was beginning to annoy him. "Gives you a bit of a thrill, does it?"

"Not as much as wanting to throw you off the tower."

"Don't you wish it was that easy?" Harry laughed. "I've actually gotten good at conjuring up things," he lied. "I could conjure up a nice safety net or a swimming pool for me to fall in."

Draco snorted. "Sure, Potter. I doubt you'd even know how to conjure yourself some decent glasses, or a hair style."

"YOU could conjure yourself a whole new attitude, if you could."

"I like my attitude just the way it is, thanks."

"You mean cocky, self-centered, mean-spirited, and cowardly?"

Draco had done just what Harry had wanted to do a few minutes ago—he grabbed onto Harry's shirt front and… well, didn't shake him, but threw him into the nearest wall, right next to a portrait. He thought he heard a voice shout something from the portrait, but he was too busy glaring into Malfoy's eyes to care.

"Remember this little position?" Draco suddenly said instead of what Harry thought he was going to say. "Last time, though, you had ME up against the wall and you were yelling things at ME. Well, the tables have turned, unfortunately." Draco pressed himself further into Harry's body, a thigh very close to his groin.

"I remember," Harry said in a warning tone. "I was telling you to mind your damn business about my sexuality."

"Now I'm telling you to mind your own bloody business about the way I am! Where do you get off trying to tell me how to act or behave? It's none of your concern. I don't care if you're a bloody GOD, you do NOT tell me what is right and what is wrong!"

"You've got a strange way of telling right from wrong, Malfoy."

"I could say the same about you, Potter. What makes you think that mingling with Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods is a good thing?"

"What makes you think that it's bad?" Harry sneered.

"YOU'RE NOT ALL KNOWING, POTTER!"

"NEITHER ARE YOU, MALFOY!"

"What's all this hullabaloo?" said someone in the portrait next to them.

Harry and Draco stopped shouting at each other immediately, and also realized that they were only mere inches away from each other's face. Draco could see a fingerprint smudge on one side of Harry's lenses, and Harry could see… a small pockmark above Malfoy's left eye?

They moved away from one another as if they were electrocuted and then looked up at the person in the portrait. Just their luck… it was Sir Cadogan.

"Well, hello young sirs," he said in greeting, bowing. He was holding onto his sword, which was stuck blade-down into the grassy field in the painting. "Is there anything that I could be assistance of?"

"Er—I don't think so," said Harry. He looked sideways at Malfoy.

"Mr. Potter! How are you, sir? Did the date with Mr. Finnigan go well?"

"Uh—sort of. We're not dating anymore…"

"Oh, yes. Back to being grand chums now, eh? Well then, are you and this good sir having a bit of a tiffy that I could help solve?"

Draco ground his teeth as though he were trying to not come out as rude.

Harry sighed. "No, I don't think you could help us."

"No…" said Draco tensely. "That ship has sailed, unfortunately."

"Are you so sure? You both seem to complement each other nicely."

Harry and Draco made a sour face.

"I beg to differ!" Draco shouted.

"As if!" said Harry about the same time.

"Hmm… I suppose I could be mistaken—but I usually don't make mistakes."

"Since when have you become a match-maker?" Harry said.

"I've been one since before I was a knight," said Sir Cadogan, looking proud. "Madams and sirs have come to me for advice, and I have given it. Most couples would just walk into a room and I could tell straight away if the feelings were pure and just."

"Well I think you're off your rocker," said Draco, folding his arms.

Harry felt the same, but he wasn't about to say that he agreed with Malfoy. Sir Cadogan was, however, making him feel uneasy with it all. If the loony knight was right, how was it possible that he'd be able to handle being with someone like Malfoy? For one, Malfoy was an ass! And two: They're from different houses! Well, the different houses didn't matter too much, but they're a Gryffindor and a Slytherin! A match made in Hell! What good could come out of it?

Sex?

Harry gasped and held in his breath. Where in the bloody hell did that come from? Stupid hormones. Heel! Sit! Stay!

"If you say so, good sir," said Sir Cadogan.

Harry snorted. Good sir?

"Sir Cadogan, Malfoy is anything but 'good'."

Draco leered. "You know nothing, Potter. Just because you're labeled as Saint Potter…"

"Oh, shut up!" Harry snarled.

"I must take my leave, sirs," said Cadogan, getting them to halt in the glaring contest. "There are other portraits in which I need to visit and other places to watch over. Fare thee well, sirs. I do hope you both overcome your little differences. Good day."

He bowed and then walked out of the picture.

"Little?" Harry snorted.

They stood there in awkward silence for a bit, and then Draco nudged Harry in the back.

"Off to Gryffindor Tower now, Potter. No more stalling."

Harry gave Malfoy a nasty look over his shoulder, and then slowly began to walk toward the tower.

There was no way in hell that he and Malfoy, of all people, could get into some sort of stable relationship. . . .

Was there?

TBC