The whispers refused to cease. Every time Harry walked into a classroom, studied in the library, or went anywhere with other students, he heard them talking. Their speculations, abuse, and surreptitious catcalling hung over Harry like a storm cloud. He did his best to ignore it; and he should be glad, he told himself, that he was the Chosen One. The fact that Harry had saved the wizarding world seemed to stop most people from outright insulting him.

But one Thursday afternoon, as the Quidditch team headed for the changing rooms after practice, he realized that he might not be the only one under scrutiny.

"…be bisexual?" Someone's voice drifted over, and Harry glanced over to the speakers. Eleanor Hicks, a fourth-year Chaser, and her classmate Willow Amara, a Beater, had their heads close together as they whispered. Harry caught only a few more words, "…so sure…had a girlfriend…" Frowning, Harry entered the boys' changing room before he could hear any more. He unlaced his Quidditch robes with more fierceness than usual, feeling Danny Cliffe's and Richie Coote's eyes on the back of his neck.

Ginny approached him once the team had exited the changing rooms. Brooms in hand, the athletes headed for the castle in the fading twilight, but Ginny stopped Harry with a firm hand and waited for the rest of the team to leave eavesdropping range.

"I overheard something interesting just now," She said casually.

"Did you?" Harry's left shoulder was particularly sore from flying; he tried to massage it with one hand.

"Some girls have been getting antsy ever since you came out," Ginny continued. "They think you did it for attention since you've never been seen with a boy."

"That's stupid." Harry sighed and tilted his head, trying to stretch out the knot that had formed in his shoulder.

"It's stupid as hell," She agreed, "But it might look like you're trying to find your way into the spotlight again."

"I'm not-"

"I know you're not, but not everyone knows you like I do, do they?" Ginny interjected. "Anyway…these girls are trying to figure out what boy you like, if there is one. They want to scope out the competition."

Harry swallowed. He felt cold all of a sudden, as if his blood had been imbibed with the March breeze.

"Some people are watching you, and your friends, very closely," Ginny concluded ominously. "I don't suppose Draco is ready to go public yet?"

"Not since the last time I asked him about it." Harry figured it was probably time to broach the topic with his boyfriend again. The idea caused his shoulder to grow even tenser, and he kneaded it frustratedly.

Ginny noticed this and walked closer to him. "Let me," She said, pressing her thumbs into the sore muscle. Their pace slowed as Ginny massaged Harry's shoulder.

Harry relaxed under her touch. "Thanks, Gin."

"Mhm." Ginny smelled of blossoms and sweat -similar to Draco,Harry realized, and he figured he must have a type. For a fleeting moment, Harry wondered if she still had feelings for him, even if she didn't realize it. But Ginny's touch held no sensuality; she was only helping out a friend. Perhaps last summer, Harry would have found this disappointing, but it pleased him to find that he didn't care anymore.

The pair parted in the castle's main hall, Ginny's warm hand slipping from Harry and waving as they said goodbye. Harry headed for the dungeons, his shoulder aching much less.

The Slytherin common room was scattered with about a dozen students, either studying or talking near the fire. Sunbeams filtered through the green water, painting the picture windows with faint stripes. Draco, Harry was unsurprised to see, had his head bent over a Herbology essay and a textbook. He sat by himself, no one in the room paying him attention. Trying to act as inconspicuous as possible, Harry sidled next to him and bent down slightly.

"We need to talk," He muttered, but already a couple of Slytherin girls were shooting him suspicious glances. Harry bit back a curse. Why must everyone be so nosy?

Draco looked up when Harry spoke, and he seemed to notice the stray gazes. "Shove off, Potter," He said, loud enough for the surrounding students to hear, "I'm trying to work." Draco's sneer was very convincing, but Harry saw his silver eyes flit towards the boys' dormitory.

Harry made a show of rolling his eyes. "I hope you fail," He shot back and marched off to the dorms, broom in hand.

A warm glow emitted from the furnace in the center of the room, casting fuzzy shadows on the green-cracked, rocky walls. All seven beds lay empty, Harry observed with relief. His uniform, thrown on right after Quidditch practice, was starting to smell, so he rummaged about in his trunk for a clean set.

Harry was doing his tie when Draco entered, schoolbag slung over his shoulder. "'I hope you fail?'" He repeated with contempt. "Really, Potter. Twelve-year-old you could've come up with something better."

"It was off the top of my head."

"Apparently." Draco frowned as he watched Harry fiddle with his tie. "What are you doing?"

"Tying my tie, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Not like that, you're not," Draco said. He reached forward and tugged Harry gently into the firelight. His pale hands moved quickly as they looped the fabric into a neater shape.

"You're choking me," Harry complained, and Draco tutted, but he slightly loosened the collar.

"There." Draco's hands fell to Harry's chest.

"Thanks." Harry tilted his head upwards and kissed Draco, who hummed in pleasure as he reciprocated.

"Wait, not in the open," Draco muttered as he pulled away. "Here…" He sat down on Harry's bed, its inhabitant following suit. With a flick of his wand, Draco caused the hangings to draw themselves tightly around the bed. Another incantation and an orb of light floated above their heads, basking their faces in gold.

"Muffliato," Harry intoned, casting the Silencing Charm around them.

"So?" Draco arranged his long legs into a crisscrossed position. "What did you want to talk about?"

Harry told his boyfriend what Ginny had heard. Draco's brows knitted together, and his face sank into his hand as he listened.

"We need to be more careful," He surmised once Harry had finished. "You think we can't even talk without people jumping to conclusions?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a heavy sigh, "You saw how nosy they're getting," He added, indicating the common room with a jerk of the head.

"I wish my boyfriend weren't so famous. Kidding," Draco said quickly when Harry bristled. "Sore subject?"

"You could say that."

Draco pursed his lips. "Sorry I brought it up."

"'S fine," Harry muttered. "Anyway…does that mean you're not ready to come out yet?"

"No, but soon," Draco assured him. "I think. I hope."

Harry reached forward and took Draco's hands, wishing fervently he could do the same thing in public. As if he could read the Harry's thoughts, Draco smiled wistfully, leaning towards him. But before their lips could meet, the sound of the door opening echoed through the dormitory.

"Harry?" Said a familiar voice, and the couple froze. Draco met his boyfriend's eyes fearfully.

"Accio Cloak," Harry said under his breath, thinking fast. The diaphanous fabric shot towards him from the trunk at the foot of the bed, making the ends of the green curtains flutter. Harry caught the Invisibility Cloak and draped it over Draco as the blond extinguished the floating light and removed the Silencing Charm.

A second later, Ron's freckled face peered through a gap he'd opened in the hangings. "You alright, Harry?"

"Hey, Ron," Harry said casually, though adrenaline zoomed through his veins. "Yeah, I'm fine. Yep. Must've, er, fallen asleep. Ginny pushed us hard today."

"Oh." Ron nodded. "Well, Hermione wanted to know if you wanted to work on the Herbology essay together. And I can ask Malfoy to join us, if he wants to. Unless you want to go to sleep now?"

"No, it's okay," Harry said quickly. "It was an accident."

"Ah. Hey, did you see anything moving near your trunk?" Ron asked. A few inches away, Harry felt Draco shift slightly. He prayed the light coming through the small gap wasn't enough to reveal the person-shaped impression on the bed.

"That was my…" Harry flapped his hand about vaguely. "Glasses! Those were my glasses. I used my Summoning Charm to get them. Er, a Summoning Charm."

"Don't you usually put your glasses on the nightstand?" Ron said, puzzled.

"Must've dropped them in my trunk, I guess." Harry's palms felt awfully sweaty. "I was really, really tired when I came in."

"Alright. Well, when you come out, Hermione can shock you with her wand. It's a spell she uses to wake me up sometimes, it doesn't hurt," Ron added at Harry's startled expression. "Okay, see you in a mo."

"Uh-huh."

Ron vanished from the curtains, casting Harry into darkness. Draco waited until he heard the door close before throwing the hangings aside and removing the Invisibility Cloak.

Draco's face was ashen in the half-light. "I hate sneaking around," He said bitterly.

"Well, you're not done yet," Harry muttered. "It'd look too suspicious if you came out of the dorms with me. Keep that," He told Draco, nodding at the enchanted garment. "Follow me out the door, slip into the hallway, and come back inside. Say you've been at the library or something."

Draco eyed Harry appraisingly. "You've done your fair share of sneaking; I'd nearly forgotten. Are you sure you're not supposed to be in Slytherin?"

"Er…" Harry grinned sheepishly. "That's a story for later."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Under the Cloak, Malfoy." Draco rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

• • •

A thick fog descended upon Hogwarts castle Tuesday night and persisted throughout the next day, clinging to the grounds like a stubborn child. As soon as the eighth years stepped outside for Herbology, the moisture dampened their robes. Hermione's frizzy mane puffed out to twice its size, making Pansy snicker, but Hermione calmly began to plait her hair, so it stayed out of her face. Harry's own hair actually stayed somewhat flat in the wetness, which he found rather astounding.

"I can barely see the greenhouses," Ron remarked, squinting through the cloudy air. "Which one are we in, five?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "We'll follow the voices, I suppose."

And follow the voices they did, the chatter that grew louder and louder as they approached the greenhouses. The glass walls, obscured by the mist, appeared suddenly, and the trio bumped into it more than once. Feeling their way down the row of greenhouses, the students finally made it inside the glass, where the humidity was just as prevalent.

"I can see some of us are going to be tardy," Professor Sprout said with a sigh as she looked at her half-empty class. "For future reference, children, the incantation Chiara helps clear a path through a fog."

A few minutes passed as Sprout waited for the rest of her class to arrive. A large, long box stood in the middle of the greenhouse, filled to the brim with blackish-brown loam. There weren't any plants poking through it, though Harry could see the surface moving as if thick worms were crawling beneath it.

Draco was one of the last students to arrive. He met Harry's eyes briefly from across the greenhouse and came a bit closer but remained firmly on the other side of the humongous planter.

"Wonderful, everyone's present," Professor Sprout said as Owen, a Hufflepuff, sidled into the room bashfully. "Now, today we'll be looking at-"

"Excuse me, Pomona," Came a voice at the door. Professor McGonagall stood in the greenhouse's entryway, hands clasped apologetically at the waist of her burgundy robes. "If I could have a word with Malfoy? Please continue the class in his absence, it may take a moment."

"Ah…" Sprout, unaccustomed to having her class interrupted, looked at Draco, whose eyes were narrowed in confusion. "Of course, Headmistress," Replied Professor Sprout, getting over her surprise quickly.

"Malfoy," McGonagall said sternly, and Draco left his place at the planter - Harry saw him visibly swallow in apprehension.

"As I was saying," Professor Sprout continued, "Welsh Burrowing Roots are not usually visible aboveground…"

Harry squinted through the glass at two fuzzy shapes he assumed to be McGonagall and Draco, but the fog made it nigh impossible to discern their hands, let alone their mouths. A breeze began to push through the mist - Harry could see it moving - but there was simply too much of it. He was deciding whether to leave under the guise of going to the loo when Professor Sprout called his name.

"Potter, you seem fascinated with the outdoors," Sprout said dryly, making Pansy giggle. "Could you tell us what potion Burrowing Roots are used in?"

"Um…" Harry peered down the row of students, pretending to watch the teacher, but his eyes slid over to Hermione. Surreptitiously, she rolled her head in a slow circle and went cross-eyed, miming the potion's effects. "Dizziness…Er, Dizziness Draught?"

It was a total guess, but to his surprise, Sprout smiled and nodded. "Ten points to Gryffindor." Harry mouthed a silent thank you to Hermione, who made a flippant hand gesture which Harry took to mean, no problem.

"I daresay Professor Slughorn will teach you that particular concoction later this year," Professor Sprout continued. "Who can tell me the exact properties of the Root's essence that make it perfect for the Dizziness Draught? Yes, Granger?"

Hermione had racked up fifteen more points for Gryffindor, and the class's gloved hands were searching in the dark soil by the time Draco returned. He appeared drawn, but he wore a small smile of relief.

"What-" Harry muttered, but Draco cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. His mouth silently formed the words, Tell you later.

"Laurent, would you show Malfoy how to extract the essence?" Professor Sprout asked. Gavin's soft features wrinkled in reluctance, but he obligingly demonstrated. Plunging a hand into the dirt, he grasped a length of squirming root, made an incision with a copper dagger, and began to squeeze the lime-colored juices into a nearby clay bowl.

The rest of the period would have been a perfect time to talk with Draco if they hadn't been part of the chaos along with their classmates. As it turned out, Welsh Burrowing Roots had a nasty habit of lashing out with their thin ends at anyone who came close. The students had to work together, holding the various extensions of the plant, so the cutter didn't get slapped. Still, the faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were covered in thin red marks and splatters of dirt by the time the bell rang.

The fog had thinned out somewhat, but gray clouds signaling a coming rainstorm gathered in the heavens. Harry could at least see the castle ahead, a dark, blurry form. He longed to call for Draco to join him and the others as they walked, but he trusted him to approach Harry when he was ready.

• • •

Rain poured down upon the castle at nightfall, but the students in the Slytherin common room only heard a muted drizzling as the drops hit the lake. The weather did not disturb the sounds inside, the scratching of quills, the crackling torches, and whispering.

Harry and Draco sat far apart from each other, both filling out answers to Potions questions. Harry could barely concentrate, glancing up restlessly from his parchment every few seconds to check if the pair of fifth-years had gone yet. The two Slytherins sat on a leather couch, the girl in her lover's lap as they talked and giggled quietly, utterly oblivious to the other two students.

7. Describe the physical characteristics of dragon saliva when mixed with a) moonstone powder b) Wincing Wisteria nectar c) hinkypunk blood.

Harry sighed heavily and flipped through Ingredients for the Advanced Potioneer: Companion to Recipes for the Advanced Potioneer for the answers. He told himself firmly to finish this question before looking up. As the fifth-year boy made kissy noises at his girlfriend, Harry thumbed resolutely through the glossary.

Finally, he punctuated his last detailed sentence with a blot of ink and looked up. The couple had gone. A few feet away, Draco closed his textbook, slipped it into his bag, and quietly walked over to Harry.

Draco sat next to his boyfriend and cut to the chase. "McGonagall said I can see my parents this weekend. I'm leaving for St. Mungo's early on Saturday by Portkey."

"That's great!" Harry said happily, but his smile faded when he noticed the worried look on Draco's face. "Isn't it?"

Draco hesitated before answering. "I'd like to see Mother," He admitted, "But it's the first time I'll see Lucius since he…disowned me." His mouth twitched as if he was deciding whether to smile or cry.

Harry placed a warm hand on Draco's folded ones. "You won't let him bully you," Harry said fiercely. "You've come a long way."

Draco chuckled dryly. "Maybe so." He lifted Harry's hand to his lips. "Potter…there's something else I want to ask of you," He said, bringing their now-entwined hands back to the table. "And I know I'm a coward for asking, but…" You're no coward, Harry wanted to shout, but he let him finish. "When I'm away, can you tell Weasley and Granger we're dating? I know I should take responsibility, too, but maybe you can ease them into the idea. And I'll face them when I get back, whatever their reactions might be."

Harry thought about it for a moment, watching the reflected flickers of green flame dance on the polished tabletop. He'd always imagined him and Draco announcing their relationship together, but Draco was right. Ron and Hermione would likely take the news much worse if the Slytherin himself remained physically by his side. Harry couldn't be positive, but he suspected his friends still held unconscious grudges against Draco Malfoy that would surface once he told them that their former bully was now his boyfriend.

"I'll tell them."

Draco held Harry's hands even tighter. "Thank you."

"I honestly don't know what Ron and Hermione's reactions will be. Worst case scenario, they'll force me to choose between you and them." The same question lingered in both pairs of eyes, but Harry decided not to answer it just then. "Malfoy...Draco, I want you to know, no matter what happens, I don't regret being with you. These past few months have been, well…kind of bizarre. But wonderful, too. And I hope this doesn't end for a long time yet."

"You're so optimistic." Draco's silver eyes were misty. "How can you be so optimistic?"

But it wasn't optimism that made Harry shoulder the responsibility by himself. It wasn't optimism that kept his hands holding Draco's, knowing it helped him calm down. It wasn't optimism that caused Harry to believe that he'd fight for both Draco's acceptance and his friends' approval.

"Draco," Harry whispered, soft as snow, "Draco, I…" Even now, he couldn't say it, for fear of somehow jinxing their relationship. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Their lips brushed gently at first as if they were afraid the other would disappear. But before long, Harry's hands were all over Draco, running through his silky hair, sliding up his thigh, tugging at his collar, at his nape, pulling him closer. Harry felt Draco's tongue mingling with his own, felt his teeth graze Harry's bottom lip - it felt passionately sloppy to the point of scandal, but Harry didn't care. He couldn't get enough of Draco. He wanted to taste him, to feel every inch of bare skin beneath his fingertips.

Eventually, the reality of the wide-open common room and the fact that their classmates were sleeping less than a hundred meters away jarred them back to the present. For a fleeting moment, Harry wanted to take Draco to his bed, cast Muffliato, and then…what? In a perfect world, Harry would know precisely how to ravage Draco upon the emerald sheets, leaving them both gasping. But the fact remained that Harry was painfully virgin - he assumed Draco was, also - and barely knew what to do with a girl, let alone a boy.

Reluctant as he was to admit it, even to himself, Harry knew that his hands shook at the idea of sex because of uneasiness more than lust.

"Merlin, we're as bad as those fifth-years," Harry said, grinning.

"Potter, don't even joke about that," Draco groaned, but he bit back a smile when Harry bumped his nose playfully with his own.

Somehow, not without a few more kisses, the couple parted at the doorway of the boys' dormitory. The two young men dressed in relative darkness; the coals in the center of the room had nearly died out. Harry peeked at Draco a few beds over, admiring the curve of his pale shoulders as they gleamed in the firelight.

Harry looked away quickly, his face warming. He set his glasses on the nightstand, climbed into bed, and tucked his wand beneath his pillow. But after a few minutes of tossing and turning, Harry found that the heat had seeped throughout his body, blood rushing between his legs. Though he'd pushed the thought of Draco's half-naked figure from his mind, his body had not forgotten.

Cursing silently, Harry fumbled for his wand, cast a Silencing Charm, and slid a hand beneath his sheets. He'd done this many times before - he was a teenage boy, after all - but something felt different about tonight. Harry took great satisfaction in hoping that a few feet away, Draco had been seized with the same unchaste desire.