"So are you a pouf, then, Potter?"

Harry was lying on top of Draco in his bed. Their shirts had been lost somewhere along the way and they were just running their hands along each other's warm bodies. They had been silent so far, as usual.

"Er," Harry said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, like he had snuck into someone's office with his Invisibility Cloak on and it had abruptly fallen off and they had turned and spotted him. Silly as it was, he didn't like to acknowledge that they were actually doing what they were doing. It was harder to bypass his own circuitry that way.

"Er," Harry repeated, stalling for time.

Draco snorted. "It's a simple question. Who have you snogged before?"

"Cho," Harry said, deciding to ditch his dignity in his sanity in one fell swoop.

"Oh, Hoe Chang," Draco said with a slight nod.

"She's not a hoe," Harry said, bristling.

"All right," Draco said, smoothly redirecting the conversation, "are you one or not?"

"What?" Harry said, momentarily distracted. He absentmindedly stroked Draco's collarbone.

"Gay," Draco said.

"What, are you?" Harry said, alarmed.

Draco rolled out from underneath Harry, snickering. Harry fell onto the covers with a thump and rolled over. Once they had resituated themselves, Draco began to trace a finger around Harry's navel.

"You're pretty slow on the uptake, aren't you, Potter?" Draco drawled.

"Er, but what... I mean, I honestly don't know," Harry admitted.

"You're generally supposed to figure that out before you go around snogging people," Draco said.

"I think it makes more sense to try everything out and then make a decision," Harry said defiantly.

"That's not how it works, though, Potter," Draco said, sounding half irritated and half amused.

"Well, that's how it should!" Harry said loudly.

Draco shushed him and tugged on the bed curtains. "You can't do everything the way you want to," he snapped. "There's rules for a reason."

Harry propped himself up on his elbow. "So civility lasted all of three minutes."

"Well," Draco said, pulling his shirt on. He didn't seem to have anything to say after that.

They sat there for a while. Harry didn't want to leave, Draco didn't seem to want him to leave, but they didn't want to be near each other either.

Harry sighed. He kept getting chest pains. He had gone to Madame Pomfrey, but she had told him he was just under a lot of stress and there was nothing she could do except that he should "quit doing dangerous things, for goodness sakes," which Harry had sort of disregarded on general principles.

Draco took his shirt back off and, rolling his eyes, flopped back down on the bed on his stomach. They lay next to each other, barely touching skin, but it was enough. Harry breathed through his nose and closed his eyes tightly.

"I should go," Harry said, his eyes still closed, making no move to get up.

"So go," Draco said indifferently.

Harry sat up, running a hand through his hair, which was even messier than usual.

"Wait," Draco said, contemplating him with grey eyes, "before you go -- what are you doing that's got Umbridge all riled up?"

"Huh?" Harry said, pulling his socks on.

"Don't play dumb with me," Draco said, his voice more immediate.

Harry chuckled. "I'm not," he said. "I'm just not telling you anything."

Draco quickly masked the look of disappointment on his face as Harry glanced at him, but not quickly enough.

"Nice job, Harry," Angelina called as Harry came up from a particularly graceful dive.

The stands of the Quidditch pitch were mostly empty at this practice. The Slytherins hadn't been prone to going out of their way to taunt them as of late; in fact, the entire house seemed in large discord. Harry wasn't really complaining.

Angelina tossed the Quaffle toward Katie, who lobbed it at the goal. Ron completely lost his head and knocked the Quaffle with his elbow. It went through the third hoop.

There was a collective groan from the entire team.

"I'm sorry!" Ron exclaimed, going red in the face. "Look, if a Chaser comes my way, I'll just knock them upside with my arm, then!"

Harry laughed genuinely. It felt so good to be off the ground. He did a small, gratuitous swoop in the air and enjoyed the cool winter air rushing past his head.

Angelina blew her whistle. "Beaters," she called.

"Yes?" Fred said. He and George had been off to the side, conversing while they floated in the air.

"Hufflepuff's got some speedy little buggers this year," she said. "I need you to be on form."

"Angelina, m'dear, we're always on form," George said.

"And Harry, you're all right, aren't you?" she said.

"As long as I don't lose my right hand before the next match," he replied.

"Good," she said. "All right, that's it for practice, then."

Harry returned to the ground a bit sadly, like boarding the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year. Lately, the air and the Room of Requirement had been his only refuge.

He glanced at the imprint his foot made in the soft ground -- it had rained the other day -- as he returned to the castle.