Disclaimer: None of this is mine; everything belongs to the great Joanne K. Rowling.

A/N: Romance is not dead yet, y'all

xXx

Harry had been a good, rule-abiding student in the last week for once; he had done all of his homework, he had studied for class and he had (unsuccessfully) looked for spells that might help him for the Tournament, he had gone to bed early, but his finger had started itching after not breaking a single school rule for a whole week; and now he had had to break out of this routine. He had climbed out of the window of their dormitory after the other boys had already fallen asleep and raced off on his Firebolt, towards the Quidditch stadium. He knew that Hades would be waiting for him, if he wanted that, but he had done his best to avoid the topic they had spoken about last time, and although he knew Hades would never bug him, he had a vaguely bad conscience because he had pushing this from himself because he didn't want to think about something of Voldemort stuck inside his mind like a thorn, thank you very much.

So he did what he always did whenever he needed to clear his mind: flying. The night was so cold his breath formed puffy little clouds before his mouth, and the wind was like a thousand little needles on his face, but Harry liked that, he liked the shock of taking a deep breath of air so cold it burned his lungs, he liked the softest rustle of frozen grass when his feet brushed across the ground after a particularly daring Wronski Feint.

He decided to go for yet another dive when he noticed a figure on a broom nearing the Quidditch stadium, so he quickly hid behind one of the watch towers, watching it come nearer – it was Flint, looking pale and disgruntled and definitely not in the mood for a nice chat, but that had never put Harry off.

"Flint!" he called out, reappearing from behind the watch tower and Flint immediately whirled around, wand raised, but he relaxed when he recognized Harry.

"What are you doing out here?" Flint snarled, frowning at him.

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry said. "I am here to fly."

"So am I," Flint said, "but as you came here first, I'll leave again." He already turned around on his broom when Harry called him back.

"Wait – we can fly together – if you want to, I mean. I was just training for the Wronski Feint."

"Still obsessed with this one, huh?" Flint said. "Let me see, then." Apart from everything that had happened between them, and apart from the fact that he probably held the record for the most ever caused fouls within one career at Hogwarts, Harry knew that he was actually a very gifted flyer with an excellent eye for player formations and flying strategies, so Harry really did appreciate his advice on flying. Although admitting it hurt, Flint was probably the better flyer and also the better coach, compared to Oliver.

They had trained together for a long time, barely talking except for Flint barking commands at him from time to time, and Harry didn't think twice when they walked back towards the changing rooms together. They were both out of breath, having raced each other around the Towers, and practicing the Wronski Feint together, and Harry still felt giddy from the rush of speed. "You look good," Flint said, gruffly as he ever was, "before, you were pale like a ghost and had under-eye circles darker than a banshee's hair, but I noticed you eat properly and it seems you also sleep properly."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Aren't you charming?"

"D'you expect me to be?"

"Of course not," Harry said, "I got bored with myself in the end."

Flint laughed as he stopped in front of the entrance of the Slytherin changing rooms. "Night then, Potter."

"Night," Harry said, "thanks for all the advice."

Flint snorted. "I'll probably regret that next year when you win the Quidditch Cup and fucking Draco Malfoy comes to me, crying. Seeing that might even be worth it, though."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside and Harry hesitated, torn –

"Wait."

"What?"

The next thing Harry knew was that he was almost being crushed between the prickly cold tiles and Flint's burning hot body, and that he was being kissed by Flint, roughly and hungrily and just how Harry needed it, his left hand holding him in place, pressed against the wall, and his right brushing down his body, his touch enticingly light. "You sure you want this?" he breathed against Harry's neck, his voice almost drowned out by the running water.

"Yes," Harry said, his voice hitching, "fuck, yes, Merlin, yes."

xXx

"Time to get up, Potter," a dark voice said very close to his ear, and a warm hand brushed through his hair.

"'s it?" Harry murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Late enough you'll miss breakfast if you don't get up now," Marcus said. "You can open the curtains, the others are gone already."

"Hmh," Harry said, rolling around and stretching lazily. "Haven't slept that well in a long time."

"I noticed," Marcus said drily, "you even slept through Montague trying to curse Laverish because he had borrowed his Playwizard without asking."

"And, was he successful?"

"I prevented him from being so; put them both into detention."

"Your own classmates?"

"I'm not prefect for nothing," Marcus said. "Also now you know why I'm so unpopular."

Harry laughed. "Actually, Hermione might just put Ron and me into detention as well when she becomes prefect and we do something that disturbs her study sessions. I think you'd get on excellent with her."

Marcus gave a non-committal grunt and stood up, picking up his clothes from the floor. "Get your lazy ass out of my bed, Potter."

"Marcus," Harry said and Marcus' face softened – barely noticeable, but Harry did see it – when he turned back towards Harry. "What's… what's going to become of us?"

"Whatever you want," Marcus said. "I told you I had already made my decision."

"I don't know if I'm ready to go public yet," Harry said, his lips dry and his heart beating up to his throat – oddly, he was more nervous now than he had been when facing the dragon. "But… but I want to be with you."

"When I said that I didn't mean we'd have to hold hands during breakfast the next day," Marcus said gruffly, "and you know that's not the kinda thing I'd do anyway."

"I know," Harry said softly, "and I don't want that. But still, I want us – in secret first, but one day I don't want to have to hide everything that we do together, and I don't want to have to lie about my feelings and I don't want to lie to my friends every time I go to see you, and I – I just want to be with you."

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked, sitting back down next to Harry; his expression a mixture of disbelief and joy. "I mean, really sure? You know I'm not… easy going. You know my background, you – well, you don't know my father, but you know enough about to him to know the kind of man he is. And I can't offer you anything – I will never see a single Knut of my family's heirloom, I will never have their Manor, I'll be completely fundless."

"I don't care about any of that – I mean, I do, for you, but it makes no difference to my decision," Harry said, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Money makes no difference for me – and family neither – I just want you."

"Really?" Marcus asked, cupping Harry's cheek softly. "You remember when I told you that you could do so much better than me?"

"I don't want to," Harry said, "Just – just promise me you're not playing games anymore."

"I promise I'm not," Marcus said, "the stakes are way too high in this one. I promise, Harry."

"Okay," Harry said, taking yet another deep, shaky breath. "I – I just want to be with you."

Marcus closed his eyes, a relief so deep as Harry had never seen it on him settling on his face, and when they kissed, there was a very different quality to it this time – Harry didn't dare to think the word yet, but it was there, the first seed had been planted.

"Also, I'll be taking you to the bloody Ball," Marcus said unexpectedly while they were both getting dressed quite a bit later.

"Pardon?"

"I'll take you to the Ball," Marcus repeated. "If you want me to, that is," he added after a short pause. "And if you want to – make it public, I mean."

"That's not what I expected," Harry said, cursing himself for blushing. Of course he knew there were quite many students who wanted to go to the Ball with him, but they had all asked Harry, and Marcus hadn't, he had just expected that Harry would want to go with him (well, Harry had asked him – kind of, after all), and Harry felt like one of the demure girls in Aunt Petunia's romance novels who agreed with whatever their very manly love interest told them which was definitely not who he wanted to be, but there was something undeniably hot about Marcus being so sure Harry would want to go with him.

"Well, you couldn't have expected me either to idly watch as one of your giggling fangirls – or Diggory – took you to the Ball, could you?"

"So you're just jealous," Harry said, trying to sound confident, but on the inside he was just cursing himself for his weak, wobbly knees – the thought that Marcus could be jealous of some random teenage girl Harry might have had to take to the Ball was really kind of turning him on.

"I know there's no reason for me to be," Marcus said casually and before Harry knew what was going on, he was back on the bed, Marcus kneeling over him, pressing his wrists into the mattress. "I just don't like sharing what is mine."

"We'll miss breakfast," Harry said breathlessly when Marcus kissed his throat.

"Such a pity," he murmured as he slowly undid the messy knot of Harry's tie, "d'you mind?"

"No," was all Harry could say; and he really didn't mind at all.

xXx

"Thank you so much for reading through my Defense homework, Harry, that was really helpful!" Parvati beamed at him as she took her essay back from Harry. "And thank you for your explanation on the properties of the Shield Charm, I really didn't know that!"

"Yeah, you're welcome," Harry said absent-mindedly, scratching his scar – it hadn't hurt much at all in the last weeks, it was just itching sometimes, and he was perfectly fine with that because he didn't want to think about this weird part of Voldemort inside his soul and what it might do to him, since he could for once be sure that his happiness was definitely not something Voldemort had planted inside him.

"There's one more thing I wanted to ask of you," Parvati chirped, "if you don't mind."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Well, I was wondering – d'you have anyone to go to the Ball with you already?"

"Yeah," Harry said, a huge grin appearing on his face before he could stop himself, "I mean – uh, sorry, why don't you go with Ron?"

He glared at Ron who had been busy copying Hermione's Herbology homework discreetly and his head snapped up. "Huh? I mean – um, yeah?"

"Oh yeah, great idea," Parvati said, sounding unenthusiastically. "What kind of robes are you going to wear, Ron? So I'll be able to match mine."

"Uh, blue?" Ron said, looking confused.

"Midnight blue," Hermione added. "With golden seams and black lining."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Parvati said, frowning in surprise.

"Yeah, Harry got them for me." Ron grinned at him. "Best Christmas present ever."

"Very well then," Parvati said shortly, "I'll see you around. Good night, Harry." She raised her chin, giving Ron a dark look, and stormed off.

"Hope you didn't mind that," Harry said.

"Nah, I mean I probably would've asked her anyways."

"If you had had the courage," Hermione said drily. "And if you had been sure she wouldn't say no if you asked her instead of Harry – you might have crushed her dreams a little, Harry."

"Huh?"

"She was making sheep-eyes at you all evening, didn't you notice?"

"She was listening to me explaining the Shield Charm!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Harry, honestly – I know you're bad at these things, but Parvati is not a bad student in Defense and she's actually really good with Shield Charms. Oh well, at least I won't have to listen to her gushing over you every night in the dorm anymore."

"She, um, does that?"

"Believe me, I have heard more things about your eyes and your hair than I ever wanted to in my entire life," Hermione said. "Not only from her, though. I cannot wait until the Second Task when you finally take your shirt off and your abs will be the only topic I will get to listen to for weeks."

"I thought people thought I was a freak?"

"Yes, but a handsome one," Hermione said. "But now let's talk about the really important things: you've got a date for the Ball, Harry?"

"Um, yeah?" Harry tried to look like it was no big deal, but he was sure his face was redder than Ron's hair, and that was to say something.

"I knew you were back together," Hermione said, "I just didn't know you'd be ready to make it public."

"How did you know?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, Harry, if you shone any brighter, I would have to wear sunglasses inside."

"So, are you gonna tell us who it is?" Ron asked, leaning in curiously.

"I wish I could," Harry said, "but we decided to keep it a secret and I promised and – well, Hermione's date is a secret, too."

"Fred and George are both making a lot of profit off this," Ron said, grinning, "they have this little bet thing running for both of you – I think, currently Malfoy is leading in both cases."

"As if!" Harry and Hermione chorused and Ron grinned.

"As I said, they are both making a lot of profit off this."

"Who'd you bet on, then?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'll tell you when the Ball's over," Ron said, "but I'm pretty confident in both my guesses."

"You smell different," Netha remarked when Harry crawled into bed, yawning and scratching her scales slightly. Lately, he hadn't taken her with him much, but then again he had spent a lot of time with Marcus and he thought it would be slightly awkward to bring his pet to one of Marcus' and his… dates.

"What do you mean?"

"You smell darker now," she said, tasting the air with her tongue. "Ever since you stopped visiting the Thestral, you smell darker every day."

"Really? I feel a lot happier now and I've had had way fewer dark thoughts lately," Harry said, frowning.

Netha touched his wrist slightly with her snout, her tongue flickering across his skin. "Your scent never lies, so beware."

"I probably should visit Hades again – I haven't done so in a while." He ran his fingers across his deeply scarred wrist – oddly, it had never itched even once, so Hades had not called for him and Harry did not like the thought of that – it was as if Hades was silently reproaching him and for some reason, that was a lot more effective than the long reproachful tirades Aunt Petunia had liked to give him every other day about all of his faults and shortcomings. "He told me to find out why Voldemort killed my parents, but – I don't know if I really… want to find out."

"Why not?"

"I'm scared of what I might find," Harry whispered, hugging his knees to his chest. "I always knew they were his enemies because they were on the other side and my mother was a Muggleborn, obviously – it makes sense, doesn't it?" He shivered, despite the warmth of the dormitory, a deep cold crawling down his back.

"Maybe you should look for the answer to a different question then, if this one is too hurtful" Netha said, "maybe you should try to find out why he tried to kill you."

xXx

A/N: Thank you so much for all your comments on the last one! See you soon! xoxo