Chapter 3: Detention, Potter!
Harry woke and checked his phone. His heart went from stuck in his throat to plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. No texts. He'd already gotten used to starting his day that way. He started to type a message, but it all sounds forced and trite, so finally he gave up, put his phone away, and was actually ready in time to go down to breakfast with Ron. Not that Ron was talking to him aside from one word answers to Harry's questions. He was obviously offended that Harry wasn't telling him about his conversation partner, but Harry figured he was entitled to some privacy after all the shit he'd been through in that past years…or, well, his entire life, really. Even from his best friends. If they didn't like it, fine. That was their problem.
The grim start to his day was made all the grimmer by running into Draco and his Slytherin cronies almost immediately. Draco's sneer was particularly patronizing, and he wasn't even subtle about shoving against Harry as they passed. This time, Harry had had enough. He felt Ron reaching out to hold him back, but he had already lashed out, shoving both his hands into Draco's shoulders and slamming him into the stone wall. Draco was taller, but he fell back easily, his eyes going wide.
"What the fuck is your problem, Malfoy?
Draco's eyes narrowed, his lips curled into a sneer, he opened his mouth.
"Fighting in the halls! Detention Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall was striding toward them, her lips compressed into a thin, angry line. Her grasp was surprisingly painful as she took him from the shoulder and yanked him away from Draco. She glared between them. "This has gone on long enough. If you cannot even make it through the hallways without getting into a physical fight…" She let that thought trail off, and the look she gave Harry made him feel immediately guilty.
"Sorry, Professor." He muttered, and dropped his gaze. Draco gave a little nod, and echoed the apology. She looked a little mollified by their apparent capitulations. "Well then, see me after dinner. You will spend your evening on your homework in my office. If you have no assignments, I will find something for you to do." She swept away, pulling Draco after her a short distance, to be assured of his separation from Harry.
The curl of his lip and the coldness in his eyes when he threw a glance over his shoulder back at Harry as he walked away told him everything he needed to know about the sincerity of that apology.
The day did not improve from there. He checked his phone between every class, he checked his phone DURING class and almost got caught several times by the teachers, who had by now universally banned cell phone use in class.
At noon in the Great Hall, Harry tried once again to type a message, but felt his face grow hot. He started to type 'Good morni-", realized it wasn't even morning anymore, and closed his phone, feeling like an idiot and resolving not to look at his phone again until the end of the day. A glance around both his own and the other tables showed a few pockets of texters. He saw Draco Malfoy and his friends with their phones out, laughing together, probably mocking their texting partners. Draco saw Harry watching and sneered, then mouthed something Harry didn't catch, but was undoubtedly offensive. He showed Malfoy his middle finger and turned his attention back to his friends. Ron and Hermione were still on the outs, and Ron had actually texted Lavender back several times during the meal, followed shortly each time by a spate of giggles from the Lavender Brown section of the table. Harry didn't know what Ron was playing at. If he was trying to make Hermione jealous enough to stop being angry with him, he obviously didn't know her as well as he thought. If he was thinking he might as well be hanged for a dragon as for an egg…that was even more stupid. Probably, he was just angry, and trying to hurt Hermione. At times like this he wished his friends had never gotten together in the first place.
He toyed listlessly with his meal, wondering why it was the simple lack of a text could have him in this state, when a few days ago he hadn't even used a cell phone before in his life! Besides, there were many reasons why they may not be texting him. Perhaps they'd damaged their phone! Or lost it! Or slept in and forgotten it in their dorm. Really, there were so many reasons.
He did a better job of resisting checking his phone for the next class, but by the following he could think of nothing but, and was feeling extremely foolish because of it. In fact, he was now almost glad to have detention, at least a McGonagall detention, because his lax attention was putting him far too behind in his lessons today. After dinner, Harry went straight to the designated classroom. Neither McGonagall nor Malfoy had arrived yet, so he took out his unfinished potions essay and tried to turn his attention there. He had nearly finished it by the time Malfoy arrived, right on time, to the minute, followed directly behind by Professor McGonagall. She closed the door behind her and, noticing that Harry had already begun his schoolwork and Draco was already getting out his books, only nodded at them and took her own place at her desk, pulling forward a stack of essays to grade. It progressed in silence for a while, only the occasional rustle of paper or the sound of a quill scratching across parchment breaking the studious silence. Harry glanced up once to see Draco tapping away at his phone before setting it down again, face down on his desk, and remembered his own, and his momentarily studious mindset fled.
He glanced over at Draco again, and this time Draco caught him, stared at him for a moment and then looked back down at his work with a curl of his lip. Harry glared at him uselessly for a moment, then turned back again to his work. But he couldn't focus, now. He kept glancing over each time he caught Malfoy's movement, picking up his phone, in his peripheral vision. He noted, too, the way he set it down face down each time. It somehow seemed a most Slytherin way to use a cell phone, hiding the screen from a casual view. He'd probably figured out the password protection, too, which Harry hadn't even bothered to try, deciding instead to just make sure he kept his phone close to him at all times.
Finally, when he realized he'd not added so much half an inch to his potions essay, Harry gave up and pulled out his phone. His heart leapt when he saw that yes, there was a message. He took a moment to take a deep breath to settle his nerves, with little effect, before tapping the message.
'Would you really like to meet? If we could manage to remain anonymous to each other?'
Heat flooded Harry, and he felt that both McGonagall and Draco must be able to feel it, too. A quick glance up showed him that no, they were both bent over their tasks. He turned back to the phone, willing his racing heartbeat to slow, and trying not to feel like too much of an idiot for his overly strong responses to a simple TEXT! Merlin, if he ever found out who the person actually was, he was definitely going to be disappointed. Not to mention embarrassed.
'Yes. But I don't see how. Is there some kind of spell or potion I don't know about? Or were you thinking along the lines of wearing masks? Because that works in books but I can't imagine that working in real life.'
He followed Malfoy's example and placed his phone face down beside his essay, and tried to read a few paragraphs back to figure out exactly where he'd been going with it. Something about phoenix feathers? No…that couldn't be right. He frowned, tapping the feathered end of his quill against his nose. Absently, he picked up his phone, and saw another message notification. He grinned, his enjoyment of the day now fully returned, and opened the message.
'Of course there are spells. And potions, too. To change appearance, to confuse the eye, and ear, to trick you into not recognizing the person, even though neither of your appearances change, invisibility spells, camouflage spells, really it's only a matter of choosing which manner you wish to disguise yourself from being recognized.'
'You've put a lot of thought into this.'
This time, he didn't even try to focus on his essay while awaiting the next text. It was satisfying prompt.
'I simply know a lot about such things. And you would too if you didn't treat homework as a last minute panicked obligation. You realized the point of school is to LEARN, right? It's not a punishment.'
Harry grinned, almost laughing aloud before he caught himself. He couldn't help but hear that one in Hermione's voice, the bossy tone she still retained from the very first time they met her, though usually not so grating anymore.
'You have a point. Alright. So, say we try one of these spells. That would be easier than getting ahold of the proper potion I guess? Then what? We arrange a rendezvous?'
'My my my. What a naughty little Gryffindor you are. A rendezvous you say? Why that's almost like a tryst. And anonymous, too. I take back at least SOME of what I said about your house.'
Harry felt his face go hot, and quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one else was watching him, he felt his emotions must be blazoned across his face like a neon sign. But no, Professor McGonagall was working her way through the stack of essays, and Draco was frowning down at his own homework, completely focused on that, and not Harry. He turned back to his phone.
'I didn't mean it that way. I don't take back anything I said about you Slytherins. Dirty, dirty minds, the lot of you.'
'Nonsense. You want to anonymously meet the strange bloke you've been texting with. You can't convince me that you only have pure intentions.'
'Alright. Let's say I don't. Let's say we met. What then? What would happen?'
'Hmmmmm. So many ideas. But then, if I tell you one, you'll just call me a dirty minded Slytherin again and I'm tired of being insulted.'
'Oh come on. You have me curious. Please?'
'Oh begging now, are we?'
'…no…'
'Hmmm. I think I liked you begging. Do it again.'
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glad his school robes hid the evidence of just how excited this conversation was making him. Why did that excite him?! He was getting positively Slytherin by association here. Ah, well. It wasn't like anyone would ever know. That strange feeling of freedom, as though he were flying without the aid of a broom, came over him, and, grinning, and with a feeling of power despite the words he was typing, responded:
'Ok. On my knees before you, I beg you to tell me what ideas you have about us meeting. Please.'
'Say sorry for all the aspersion you've cast on my house.'
'Sorry. For calling Slytherins dirty minded, perverted sluts.'
'That was cheeky. A little too cheeky. But since I, theoretically, have you on your knees…perhaps you could make it up to me in other ways?'
It took Harry a moment to do anything other than stare at the screen. There it was. No evasions, no casual flirting around the point, nothing that could be passed off as just really oddly sexually themed conversation. It was a direct come on. He set the phone down for a moment, staring at the screen. The former excitement had suddenly been replaced by something like terror, the former free-flying euphoria replaced by a sudden drop into a deep chasm. Because with the casting aside of whatever illusions he'd been hiding behind, a rather large realization had just hit him.
Harry was into guys.
All the previous little emotions he'd been having, that moment of disappointment when he'd thought it was a girl, how the thrill had increased when his male identity was confirmed. Just how much more excited he was about this whole conversation than he'd been about any of the girls he'd had crushes on in the past. He'd thought he was just a little preoccupied by the whole "Voldemort, and quite a few other people, creatures, and even things, are trying to murder me on a regular basis" thing. But really, now that he had something to compare it to, his previous feelings towards girls seemed rather flat, now. He thought of the guys he knew. Hm. There was his dormmates. Not exactly an inspiring lot. Ron was his best friend and may as well be his brother. Neville, well…he'd certainly improved in looks from his first year but he was still, well…Neville. Seamus…nah. Dean…hm. His mind HAD immediately pictured Dean shirtless. He had quite a nice body, the sort that came with many hours of dedicated Quidditch practice, and he'd been a loyal and supportive friend when many others hadn't. Still, he couldn't imagine doing anything more than look.
What about the other guys he knew? Fred and George? Again, definitely attractive, but he couldn't really picture actually…DOING anything. While he was on the subject of Weasleys, as awkward as that may be what with them being family…Percy was about as appealing as an ice cold shower on a cold winter night. Bill…wow. Okay. That was a reaction. Shit.
Harry stared down at his essay, not even seeing. His mind spinning. His body had DEFINITELY reacted to the mental images he'd conjured. And also, he had realized a few things about his past interactions with Bill Weasley. He'd had a bit of a hero-worship thing of course. Who wouldn't? Bill was cool! But when had it turned into a crush? Apparently longer than Harry had realized, now that he analyzed his previous emotions with new insight. Wow. He really was dense. He turned his mind back to those within the school, running through a list of Gryffindor fifth, sixth, and seventh year girls and boys, focusing on the more attractive ones, paying attention to his body's response. Nothing, really. Oh, he'd noticed more than he realized. But nothing that truly excited now that he knew what that was supposed to really feel like. He moved on to Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw. Okay there were definitely a few attractive guys in Ravenclaw. That should be filed away for future reference…or fodder for the imagination. Now…Slytherin. His feelings here were complex. Not only for the house's notoriety when it came to the Dark Arts and connections with Voldemort, but for his own personal enmities. Seeing the Slytherins in a different light was weird, and strangely humanizing. He'd never even considered it. Zabini was definitely hot. Hot and with that dark, dangerous edge that was really quite sexy, now that Harry was paying proper attention. He was even a candidate for the Mysterious Texting Partner. Maybe that wouldn't be TOO bad. Hm. Crabbe and Goyle he didn't even bother to dwell on. About as erotic to picture as a couple of slugs mating. Who else was there? Theodore Nott? Miles Bletchley? Terence Higgs? None inspiring. He glanced over at the white blonde head bent over his homework, trying to look past his aversion. It was no good. When he looked at Draco Malfoy, all he felt was a simmering anger and disgust.
Well, well, well. It seems short and sweet is the name of the game for this fic. It means I update sooner, though, so perhaps that's just as well.
Thank you so much to those of you who have taken the time to leave reviews, favourite, and follow this story! It means a lot to me and makes me so excited to come back to it. Do please continue. I want to hear all your thoughts and impressions! And, since I now know exactly where this is headed, tell me what your guesses are! I want to see if any little hints I've left have been obvious!
Once again, I apologize for any errors in grammar, spelling, plot consistency, etc. I am hopelessly impatient when re-reading things I have written, and do not have a beta. Please point out my errors to me so that I may correct them if they are important, or simply sheepishly apologize for them.
Yours,
Loony Luiny
