"Blimey, Harry! How did Hermione and you manage to get yourself a month of detention?" Ron asked him incredulously, trying to keep his silent Protego long enough.
They were practicing all the N.E.W.T. - related spells in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Instead of one teacher a different instructor from DMLE each month was teaching them new incantations and techniques. Auror Proudfoot was supervising today and he divided them into pairs to duel.
"Long story. Nott was plotting something against Malfoy and it was… somehow related to me as well," Harry threw a successful offensive jinx at Ron, while he was distracted.
"That bloody ferret. First he gets Hermione to brew potions with him and now you get a detention because of him." said the ginger, giving the Slytherin a nasty glare across the room, "Not to mention that the git fancied you!"
"He doesn't know about it," Harry shushed him. "And I want to keep that way!"
"Do you reckon, if he's forgotten that he is a poof he might try to make a pass at Hermione? They have been too chummy recently..."
"I don't think this is something you can forget that easily, Ron," he replied gravely.
"But I will keep an eye on him, just you know, to be sure," his friend glared and Malfoy once again.
Then the Slytherin looked at them and mouthed "What?", Harry just shrugged.
At the end of their class they all received Pamphlet about Special Auror Training Courses and what knowledge was required for them to be eligible to enter. The Gryffindor was happy to note that most spells were already familiar to him because of the D.A.
"Patronus Charm... I guess some of us can kiss their career goodbye," Ron mused, going through the booklet.
"Are you talking about Malfoy again?" Harry shook his head. He was trying his best to stay civil with the Slytherin, however, all things considered he should have been trying to keep his distance.
"The tosser is a bit mental, putting his name on the DMLE applicants list. Everyone knows he won't be able to produce a Patronus," the ginger snickered.
"What do you mean?" he asked his friend curiously.
"He's Marked, Harry... Dark wizards aren't able to cast it. This is what he gets for being in cahoots with old Voldie there."
"But Snape could do it," Harry protested. "I remember..."
"Snape turned out to be a good guy, and besides look at him…" Ron gestured to Malfoy sitting alone, rustling through a book angrily. "He is pitiful… I don't think he's got any good memories left."
Another strange pang of guilt made Harry's stomach feel queasy. It was he, who was responsible for Draco's memory loss. Maybe there was someone other than him that he'd fancied and had some nice moment with. He felt like he needed to prove Ron wrong or maybe to appease his own conscience.
A white queen was dragging his poor knight to haul off the chessboard. Harry was distracted all evening, losing to Ron miserably. Ginny was working on her essay at the library and Hermione went off to check on the Potions' project, so it was only boys that were sitting around the fireplace in Gryffindor common room.
Seamus had smuggled some Butterbeer and they were all a bit tipsy by the end of the evening.
"So lads," the Irish grinned, "Any luck with the fairer sex recently?"
Neville swallowed wrong and was wheezing and coughing at the question.
"Easy there, mate!" Dean flicked his wand freeing his airway.
"Neville here has been making a move at Miss Lovegood if I am not mistaken?" Seamus teased.
"We're good friends… That's all," Neville babbled, looking uncomfortable.
"It looks like me and Seamus are the only single men in here…" Thomas said.
"Hey speak for yourself, I've managed to get quite familiar with what's under Parvati's robes," the Irish winked.
"Oh for the love of Merlin… do you have to make it sound so vulgar?" Harry groaned he wasn't sure he would be able to discuss his abysmal sex life with his dorm-mates.
"You have no problem there, hey Harry." Dean sniggered. "I saw that hickey you got the other night!"
Fear crept up his spine… What if somebody from Gryffindor noticed them. He couldn't go Obliviating half the school because he didn't know how to act around Malfoy without it resulting in some completely insane behavior.
"Hey, lads! It's my sister you're badmouthing!" Ron protested.
"I am going to bed…" Harry stood up not willing to continue this discussion any further.
"Don't forget to use the silencing charm!" Seamus shouted his way and a roar of laughter erupted behind him.
He didn't know exactly why all this lad-talk made him so queasy. Maybe because he was the least experienced out of the people he knew. Of course, they might have fudged on that a bit, but at least they didn't have a full-blown sexuality crisis Harry was experiencing. He was never smooth with girls and whenever he fooled around with Ginny it never got far enough. So far the only decent sexual encounter he had had was with Malfoy under the influence of a potion, and it was another can of worms altogether. He was afraid that it made him somehow too weird even for the wizarding society.
"Did you do it though?" Ron woke him up in the middle of the night looking a bit green.
"Do what?.." Harry mumbled sleepily.
"Did you and Ginny… er, did you shag?"
"Ron! Why are you… asking such questions? It is a bit creepy, don't you think!" he wanted to hide under the covers just to avoid this conversation.
"Well I am your best mate…" the ginger explained. "Mates discuss stuff like that."
"I don't feel like talking about it, okay?" Harry replied defensively.
"I dunno if your muggles ever had the talk… but it's not so different in the wizarding world, I suppose," his best friend continued.
"Brilliant! Good to know…" the dark-haired boy said sarcastically. "Now can we please stop talking about it…"
"Suit yourself, Harry. But you know it's okay if you do… I am not going to punch you in the face or something," Ron mumbled and finally turned away to sleep.
Harry's back was hurting and his knees were sore from scrubbing the floor like a house-elf. He was serving detention at Slughorn's that week. He had to clean the spilled potions after the second-year class and it was an arduous task. A couple of cauldrons had exploded leaving nasty goop everywhere and the Vanishing charm wasn't effective enough so the rest he had to wash by hand. It had eerily reminded Harry of him slaving away in Aunt Petunia's kitchen.
"You look fetching like that, Potter," a familiar voice drawled.
"Oh, sod off, will you," the Gryffindor replied, getting up from the floor. "Came to nick Slughorn's ingredients again? He is a stingy git... might notice if something had gone missing."
"Well, it is a risk I am willing to take," Malfoy sighed melodramatically.
"You should go easy on the potions there… That stuff you've been taking is properly dangerous," Harry was concerned.
"What are you? My mum?" the blonde rolled his eyes and started rummaging through the supply cabinet.
"I am serious, Malfoy. I know what's it like to always want a drink," he looked at the Slytherin earnestly. He noticed that Draco's complexion was even paler than usual, his hair not properly groomed and his eyes darting wildly around the room.
"Listen, I know that we're sort of mates now and all," Malfoy started, "but, Potter, if you want me to keep being civil to you… you need to back off or help me look."
"There isn't anything there," Harry crossed his arms. "Hermione ratted you out to Slughorn and he hid all the dangerous ingredients in his private storage."
"What! That mud… Muggle-born person!" the blond cursed, "And I thought I could trust her."
"Malfoy," the Gryffindor said carefully coming closer to the manic lad. "How about you take a Calming Draught and let it go… " He placed a steadying hand on the Slytherin's shoulder.
"Potter… fine, I guess…" he gritted. "Can you stay with me for a bit… until the withdrawal subsides?"
The Slytherin looked afraid and defenseless and so unlike his normal self, something possessive awoke in his chest at the thought of him going through it alone. Ginny was there for him when he was going through it and she even had to amend their Hogsmead get-togethers to a non-alcoholic version.
"What about the cleaning?" Harry smiled.
"Don't you have a Black's house-elf working here at Hogwarts…" Malfoy provided.
Dusk was settling down Hogwarts' grounds, first snowflakes dancing in the cold November air. They were in that secluded passage again, sitting by the big stained-glass window. Malfoy drank the Draught and unceremoniously put his blonde head into the Gryffindor's lap, closing his eyes and exhaling contently.
"If I start vomiting… don't take me to Pomfrey, I don't want to get expelled once she tests me for potion abuse," Draco warned.
"How long do you reckon it'll take?" Harry asked, distractedly. Since when did Malfoy become so handsy with him? They were just mates now and he treated him like he was… Pansy? He remembered how the Slytherin was always lounging around with her, letting the girl stroke his hair. Maybe this is what being Malfoy's friend was like.
"I dunno, probably a couple of months, until I am going to be miserable once again," the Slytherin replied bitterly.
"Why did you start taking it?"
"First to help with my injuries… and then it kind of became a second nature," Draco started shivering even more, and he curled his long legs closer to his body for comfort. "Why did you start drinking?"
"To cope, I guess... and then I started fighting with Ginny and it was the only thing that made me forget," Harry quite liked being this candid with someone. Malfoy was still as snarky and prickly as ever, but somehow he didn't feel awkward to talk about these things with him. Maybe because they were going through similar experiences.
"Let me guess, Potter, you fought because of me?" the blonde smirked.
"Not only… but yeah, you were mainly the reason."
"Was there any other reason?" Malfoy murmured, closing his eyes for a bit. The Calming Draught must have started working.
"Er… I am not sure I want to talk about it with you of all people," Harry sighed, embarrassed.
"Oh come on, Potter... You know I am queer, and you haven't gone babbling around the school about it," Malfoy looked up at him, grey eyes serious. "I think, I should be able to return the courtesy."
"She sort of pressured me into having… er, sex with her. And I wasn't ready and it kind of went awry from there," the Gryffindor said, not daring to glance at the Slytherin's expression.
"Oh," was a simple reply. Harry was relieved that he hadn't started mocking him. "Why weren't you ready?"
"I dunno… the war had barely ended… I had a lot on my mind.."
Sex meant to be something that reminded him that he was alive, that there were still things worth living for. Instead he felt empty and guilty and no amount of pleading and yelling and angry tears could tell him that it was okay to do it when behind his closed eyelids he saw ruins of Hogwarts and blood, and bodies of dead students and people he cared about and couldn't protect.
"Mmm-hmm"
"How did you know… that you were queer?" he asked Malfoy carefully.
"I just did… I've never even thought that girls might be attractive or whatnot," Draco explained. "Have you thought that you might not be completely straight?"
"Er… if you're talking about that previous incident…"
"For fuck's sake, Potter… don't get your wand in a twist, I am asking hypothetically… You've made it perfectly clear that you are with the Weaslette now," Malfoy huffed.
"I haven't thought about it... much," Harry replied honestly.
"You don't have to choose, you know… it's fine to be whatever, at least for you. You don't have an obligation to marry some pureblood cunt to breed..."
Could he really be whatever? He wished Sirius was alive so he could talk to him about it. At that moment Harry felt like he was ready to accept the fact that his godfather could have been gay, that he loved someone of the same sex and it was okay, and for him it probably wasn't that big of a deal.
"And you do?" the Gryffindor asked incredulously.
"Yes, my mother has already arranged a betrothal for me," the blonde grimaced.
"So you're just going to go along with it?!"
"I am…"
Harry couldn't believe that he was going to be married off like some sort of sacrificial lamb to do what? Continue cruel and old traditions that were not supposed to matter after Voldemort was defeated. It was more complicated than this, Tom Riddle was just a product of centuries of prejudice. He remembered his bigoted uncle and his obsession with appearing normal and ordinary in front of the neighbors and he felt that those poisonous remarks had left an imprint on his life as well.
"What would you do, if you had a choice?" Harry asked looking at Malfoy intently.
Draco opened his drowsy eyes, a sad smile stretching his lips and he lifted his hand towards the Gryffindor's cheek, gently moving his fingers over his jawbone.
"This…" he moved up to press his lips to Harry's for a brief moment and then withdrew putting his head back into another boys' lap.
"Malfoy… you know that it's not going to work…"
"Shut up for a moment…" and then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Draco woke up in the Infirmary, his body soaked in a cold sweat, his teeth clacking together from the tremors. Scratchy linen felt like tons of little needles prickling his skin. The symptoms of withdrawal were brutal and he wanted to bash his head over something hard just to fall unconscious and not suffer through it. He noticed a dark shape, curled on the bed across from his, still wearing school robes, glasses askew, the faint glow of Lumos lingering on the tip of the wand.
"I told you not to bring me here, you tosser," he whispered fondly and tried to make himself comfortable once again.
In the dead of the night, lying in the empty ward Draco allowed himself to stare.