The Hogwarts Boy's Guide

Chapter Two: Sexual Harassment

Warnings: Slash, a few strong swear words, and derogatory language

Author's Notes: Comments adored. Opinions valued.

Later that night found Draco sitting in his house's common room, lounged back in a green leather chair. All around him the common room was becoming a veritable madhouse. It had the feel of an America Saloon of the old west. There were card games, drinking, music, and of course the occasional outburst of a fist fight that ended in broken tables and noses. The whole room had the air of a riot in the making.

Draco was not involved tonight, conversely. His head was dropped over the Astronomy homework perched on his lap and his quill was caught between his fingers and lips. His mind, however, was not on the homework in front of him, but rather on Harry Potter and The Notebook.

He kept seeing that name scribbled so casually across the page, as if whoever wrote it hadn't realized the implications. Oh sure, everyone knew that Harry was gay. Harry had come out to a few friends months ago- namely Weasley, who had spilled the beans to his sister Ginny. Ginny told her boyfriend at the time, Blaise Zambini of Slytherin, who promised not to tell. He'd meant to keep the promise too, except the very next week Little Weasley broke up with him for a Hufflepuffer (and there was no worse insult than that). In a fit of hysterical grief, Blaise told Pansy Parkinson about Potters affliction. Pansy, of course, made sure the entire school, including the professors and Hogwarts staff, knew Harry's secret by the weeks end.

So, no, the fact that Potter was a fag was not what shocked Draco. It was the fact that he was in The Notebook. That meant that somebody at Hogwarts of the male gender had been with Harry Potter.

They hadn't necessarily had sex. Even though the book was labeled 'Best Lays', it was really just a trophy hall of who had fooled around with who. The Notebook was enchanted only to allow truthful entries to be entered. Most people signed their entries proudly for that purpose.

Harry's had not been signed. But it was in there. And that meant it was true.

It made Draco angry, the way someone had just flaunted his abnormality in the pages of the book. Just put it out there, in words, for everyone to see. He'd been with The Golden Boy, perhaps participating in a few golden showers. Two boys, together. It made his stomach turn as he tried to picture it. Harry Potter, and a faceless male partner, grunting and sweating together, doing what was forbidden to them.

Ugh.

God, that was so foul.

And yet so…fascinating. For some odd reason Draco couldn't let go of it, disturbing as the thought was. Who had been with Harry? What had they done? What all could two men do together? It was horrific to think about, yet alluring at the very same time. Draco hated to admit it, but it was true. It wasn't as if he thought it was…exciting or arousing or anything like that. Because that was sick and wrong. He was just…curious, was all.

"Draco!" came a squawking voice behind him.

Draco's stomach flipped over and his face whitened. He felt embarrassed of the thoughts and pictures that had just been entertaining in his mind. Though he knew it was impossible, he worried that someone had been witness to his thoughts. Clearing that thought from his mind, he turned to see who had called his name.

A head full of ashy brown curls popped up from behind his chair, closing followed by a large set of breasts. Pansy Parkinson, curls and boobs.

She snuggled up on the arm of his chair and draped one arm around Draco's shoulders. He tried to scoot away, uncomfortable by their closeness, but Pansy held on tight.

"Draco, baby," she purred, smiling with perfectly white teeth.

"Yes, dear?" Draco asked, with an obnoxiously fake smile.

"A few of the boys are going to put on an all male review for the Slytherin ladies this weekend, and everybody wants you to join."

"An all male review? And I suppose this involves me getting naked?" he asked.

Pansy shook her head and her curls bounced all over, tickling Draco's face, "No, no. Not naked. Of course not. That would be vulgar. You'd be wearing this!"

With that, she produced the costume from her pocket with a flourish. She dangled a green thong with a silver snake print on the front in front of him. Draco's jaw dropped.

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Draco! Come on! Don't be such a wimp. You're gorgeous, you have nothing to worry about!"

Draco snorted and reverberated, "No."

"Please, Draco? For me?" Pansy asked with a sniffled. She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her huge, coal rimmed eyes.

"Pansy, go away. I'm busy, alright? I'm not going to be in some silly strip show so that you and your friends can ogle me in that pair little pair of knickers. Absolutely not. It's degrading."

"Geez, you sound like a women," Pansy said.

Draco pressed his lips together, feeling his temper flare up. "Pansy…"

She continued on, "The strip show is all in good fun, Baby. You're being too serious about this. Unless there's something you don't want us finding out about you," Her fingers crept up his thigh, "Maybe the fact that you're making a huge fuss about this is making up for…smaller things on your person?"

Anger flashed through Draco's eyes as Pansy's hand came over the body part she was referring to. On instinct, Draco grabbed Pansy and shoved her off of him. He hadn't meant to push her hard- just enough to get her hands away from his no-no parts. But he had shoved her a bit too forcefully. She tumbled off the chair with a surprised gasp and hit her head on the stone wall behind her.

She reached her hand up to feel her head, fat tears gathering in her eyes.

"Fine, I get it," she said in a voice a few octaves higher than normal.

"Pans, I didn't mean-"

A few people had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene. Two of Pansy's friends rushed over to help her up, fawning over her to make sure she wasn't hurt badly. One of them, a blonde girl, scowled at Draco and said:

"Why have you always got to be such a jerk, Malfoy?"

The other friend, this one a boy, said, "Nice going. Hitting girls now, I see."

Without having had to say anything to either, Crabbe and Goyle appeared out of no where to stand behind Draco, who had risen from his chair. They crossed their meaty arm and adopted threatening sneers to their beefy faces.

"I might be hitting you in a second, if you don't adopt a different tone," Draco snapped at the boy.

The boy said nothing, but Draco saw the bobbing of his Adams apple as he gulped nervously. Draco turned and snatched up his things from the chair and crushed them to his chest. Then he looked at Pansy, who was sniveling pitifully.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said in a low, even tone, although his eyes never lost their heated shimmer.

"I'm going to my room to study," he said to Crabbe and Goyle, "I can see there will be no concentrating if I stay down here."

Draco stomped up the winding staircase to the loft which lead to the boys' dorm room. He walked across, and stopped. Placing his hands on the cold iron rail, he leaned over, looking down into the common room. Everyone had quickly resumed their merriment. He could see Pansy now enjoying the attention of her male friend, who had perched her on his lap and was examining her head for damage. Crabbe and Goyle had left him when he made his exit, and were now seated in front of the massive, white and silver marble fireplace with a group of first years, playing cards. More like cheating at cards and winning all their snacks from them, Draco thought, as he noticed the massive pile of candy next to his chubby friends.

Any other day he'd have been down there himself, acting as the life of the party, as usual. But for some reason, tonight he simply didn't feel as though he belong there.

Harry Potter slapped Dean Thomas on the back happily.

"Great job out there, today!" he said.

Dean shifted away from Harry's touch but smiled none the less

"Thanks, Harry," he said to the captain of the Quiddich team.

He nodded quickly and, Harry noticed, tighten his towel around his waist as he slunk away from Harry to get dressed, casting a dubious glance behind him before dropping trou.

Harry sighed quietly, trying to appear as if he didn't notice. Pretending he didn't notice the way everyone eyed him in the showers after practice now, to make sure he wasn't taking a peek at them. Pretending he didn't notice how they shied away from his touch anymore, as if one caress from him could give them his dreaded disease.

As if he could give them 'The Gay'.

He tightened his own towel and walked up to one of the foggy, shower room mirrors. He wiped a clean spot and looked at his reflection. He liked to make sure he didn't have the word 'queer' stamped across his forehead. He often felt as though he did.

But no, there he was, starring back at himself, completely normal. He looked the same as he always had, altered only slightly by age. His black hair was still untidy, though now a bit longer so that the weight of his hair quelled some of the scruffiness. His green eyes flashed with a faint, but ever present sorrow from behind his thick framed glasses. The events of his life, his loses, his personal tragedies had taken a toll on him over the years. They'd robed him of some spark, some glow of innocence, and replaced it with a hardened sort of sadness. But his jaw had grown stronger, as had his body. He'd long ago shed his baby fat and replaced it with long, lithe muscle.

Harry looked away from his reflection and splashed his face with cool water from the ever replenishing basin in front of him. He towel dried his face and hair, then turned back to his team, who were stiffly pulling on fresh clothes or pajamas.

"Alright team," Harry said, "We had a great practice today. I want all of you to get a good night's sleep and be ready for practice tomorrow evening. No skipping dinner. No drinking. Save that for after we kick Slytherin's butt's at our first match."

Harry's short speech was met by happy whoops and cheers. Slowly, the team filed out of the Gryffandor locker room back to the common room, which was connected to the locker room by a short hall and a tapestry covered door.

A few minutes later, only Ron remained. After Harry had been elected captain, he'd helped Ron train and get accepted back onto the team. Though he wasn't one of the best players, and didn't possess any sort of natural skill, as long as he practiced he played well enough. A lot better than he had fifth year, that was for sure.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, "You doing alright, mate? You look a little out of sorts."

Harry pulled his black T-shirt over his head and straightened his glasses. He picked up his damp towel and tosses it into the laundry basket next to the shower stall.

"Yes, fine," he answered, giving Ron a forced smile.

Ron frowned, "You're a horrible liar, Harry."

"I know."

"So what is it? What's eating you?"

"It's just that," Harry started, not sure if he wanted to tell Ron what he was about to, but continuing anyway, "It's just that, every since word got out about me being…gay, it seems like everyone is acting different towards me. The team is so uncomfortable around me now."

"Not the girls," Ron pointed out, "They've been hanging all over you."

"Yeah, well, I don't mean them. Every girl just wants a gay best friend, I reckon. I meant the guys. They all watch me in the shower like I'm liable to pounce on them at any moment. They all go stiff when I touch them. They all stay at least four feet away from me when I talk to them."

"I don't know, Harry, they just aren't used to the idea of you being different yet. It's nothing against you, of course. Everybody still likes you, of course. It was just sort of…shocking for us all to find out."

Harry smiled thinly, "Yeah, and you've been really great about it, Ron. You don't know how much I appreciate that."

Ron's face flushed, "Erm, well…That's what friends are for, I guess. You being a…a you know…it doesn't make you a different person. You're still my best friend."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning at the way Ron dodged the word gay best he could. He wondered if Ron thought it would offend him, or hurt his feelings. He wished he could tell him that it was ok to say what he was. It was ok to use the word gay.

Harry continued, "I'm just not sure if I'm the best person to be captain anymore. I mean, all the other houses laugh at our team now. Gryffandor, coached by a queer."

"Well, they shouldn't be laughing, should they? I mean, we haven't lost a game this season! Don't be a prat, Harry. You're a great captain! And everybody knows it! The other houses are just jealous that we've got you and they don't!" Ron barked.

Good old Ron, always standing up for him. Always doing his best to hold Harry up when times got rough.

Ron slung his arm over Harry's shoulder. It made Harry's insides flutter to know that Ron wasn't afraid to touch him like everyone else seem to be. His heart turned to warm butter as Ron lead them out of the locker room. He punch Harry lightly in the arm.

"Hey, don't worry about everyone else, Harry. If they aren't comfortable with you, it's their problem, not yours," Ron said.

And for a while, at least, Harry followed Ron's advice. He didn't worry about it.

The next morning found Draco Malfoy in quite the foul mood. He'd decided to wear his new boots that had just come in from Italy through the post. He thought they were fantastically stylish. They were shinny black, Italian leather with pointed toes and a slightly elevated heel. He put them on with his black school pants and a soft gray sweater with his white silk dress shirt underneath. He'd been feeling pretty good about himself until he'd walked into the Great Hall for breakfast and Goyle had taken one look at him and shouted:

"Cor, Draco, what have you got on? A pair of high heels?"

Goyle's thoughtless statement had caused an onslaught of giggling, particularly from the first years, until Draco cast them all a look that would have frozen the blood in Satan's veins.

"For your information these are Italian boots, and they cost more than your life, Goyle. So I'd shut up if I were you," Draco said.

Goyle did shut up after that, changing the subject to the lack of strawberry jelly at Hogwarts.

"They've got every other kind of jelly. Even orange marmalade and every hates that! Where's the strawberry?" he asked, clearly outraged.

But Draco couldn't concentrate. He was too busy stewing. His boots did not look like high heels. Absolutely not. They were perfectly masculine, thank you very much. Of course they were! Because he wasn't some fag, not like Potter.

Potter.

He was still thinking about the notebook. Hands like a god, it said. That was so very wrong. Harry's hands, on another boys-

Draco shuddered. Or shivered. He felt funny thinking about it, having a tendency of picturing Harry's hands engaged with his own bits and pieces, for lack of a mental picture of any other boys junk in his mind but his own. He shook his head and rose from the table, once again feeling embarrassed by his thoughts.

"Where are you going?" Blaise Zambini, the auburn haired boy responsible for telling Pansy about Potter's condition, asked.

"I'm going to Potions early. I have some homework to finish up," Draco said dismissively.

He turned on his (very manly) heel and trod away from the table with large, hurried steps. A pretty, black haired witch was rising from the table at the same time, adjusting her skirt, and bumped into Draco. When she saw who she'd bumped into, her cheeks reddened and her lashes lowered.

"Oooh…sorry, Malfoy," she tittered, looking up and drawing in a breath. Her eyes locked on his and she seemed somewhat unable to look away.

Draco was used to having this effect on girls. He figured it had something to do with his great, great, great, great grandfather, Vladimir Malfoy, who married a veela.

"It's fine," Draco said briskly, and turned to walk away.

"Hey, nice shoes!" she said.

Before he could stop himself, Draco snarled, "Bugger off."

It wasn't until he saw the girl's crestfallen expression that he realized she'd meant it as a compliment.

Harry Potter was in a better, more confident mood the next morning when he strutted into his first period Potions class. Even seeing Snape glowering at him from his desk didn't do anything to cloud his sunny disposition. Ron had been right. If people didn't like him for being what he was, that was their problem, not his.

He took his seat next to Hermione. She was deeply immersed in a large, old tome called 'Advanced Arithmancy for Advanced Wizards'. She blushed crimson when Harry noticed that inside that book, she was hiding 'The Wicked Wizards Request', a dog eared novel with a picture of wizard wearing only a grin and a tight pair of leather trousers on the cover.

Ron came in shortly after and sat across from Harry and Hermione, still stuffing his face with biscuits he'd shoved in his pockets during breakfast.

"I just never have time to eat enough!" he explained, as he cast a sly glance at Snape and popped another biscuit into his mouth. Eating was strictly forbidden in Snape's dungeon.

Harry's smile did not even falter when Draco Malfoy came swaggering into the room, flanked by his portly pals, Crabbe and Goyle, and chose the seat in directly in front of Harry. Malfoy repeatly attempted to give Harry dirty looks, but Harry simply refused to pay attention. He wasn't going to let anything get to him today. He'd promised himself that.

Snape cleared his throat loudly, indicating the he was about to begin his lecture. Malfoy finally turned around and directed his attention away from Harry. The class began taking notes, and Ron passed a note to Harry. Inside was a cartoon of Snape with such a disproportionate nose than he'd fallen on his face and couldn't get up. Harry penciled his own drawing and set it back to Ron. They continued this way through out the first half hour at class with Hermione clicking her tongue at them disapprovingly.

Snape finally finished talking and wrote a series of instructions in the air with his wand, which bled out bright red words that hovered in the air along the front wall. He split them into groups of four. Harry was with Hermione, Ron and Neville. Just in front of them, Malfoy was grouped with Goyle, Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy loudly commanded his three group members to go gather ingredients and then leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk.

Hermione and Ron offered to gather up what they needed, and Hermione pulled Neville along with them, briefing him on the spell so that he would be less likely to mess it up. Harry sat in his seat glancing through his text book.

After a moment, he had the sense that someone was looking at him. He lifted his head and briefly caught Malfoy's eyes. He quickly turned his blonde head away and snatched up his book.

Malfoy had been watching him! Harry thought.

Then, suddenly, Malfoy turned back around, his feet clunking to the ground. He set his long fingered hands on Harry's desk and tipped his head back as if he were thinking about something.

Harry's heart started to beat faster. What was this going to be about?

"Hey, Potter?" Malfoy asked casually, as if addressing a friend.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you'd heard of the notebook that was circulating around Hogwarts these past few months. You know, the one written by the boys about which witches-"

"Yeah, I've heard of it, Malfoy. It's out of circulation now. What's your point?"

"But it's not out of circulation. I happened to have a look at it last night."

Harry's green eyes narrowed. He didn't like the way Draco was grinning at him. His smile didn't reach up to his cold, gray eyes. It was fake. Mocking. Malicious.

"So why are you telling me?" Harry asked.

"I thought you'd want to know that your name was in it."

Harry's heart dropped to the floor. His insides went cold, brittle, and crumbled away. His name was in 'The Hogwart Boy's Guide to the Best Lays in School'? How? Who could have done that?

He'd never been interested in looking at The Notebook when it was being passed around earlier that year, before Snape had confiscated it. He thought it was mean and degrading, not to mention tactless. It was the ultimate kiss and tell. That was something Harry never did, especially considering his circumstances.

But someone had written about him. So one had put his name in The Notebook for everyone to see. Harry's blood ran icy in his veins. A thousands questions littered his mind. Who had seen it? Who had written it? What had they said about him? Why had they betrayed him?

Malfoy interrupted his thoughts.

"It was very interesting reading, Potter. Very. Interesting."

Harry looked up at Malfoy, then passed him. A few of the students had turned to listen. Ron and Hermione were watching from across the room with silent looks of trepidation. They looked ready to jump in at a moments notice, for which he was grateful. But Harry's heart still thumped like crazy. He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

Don't let him get to you! His heart screamed. You promised yourself you wouldn't get upset over this sort of thing!

He looked back to Malfoy, who was now grinning like a crazed villain.

Don't let him get to you! Nothing he says matters.

"Tell me, Harry," Malfoy said loudly, forcefully, "How is it that you can be such a tight ass during the day, and yet be so open to anyone who wants to fuck you at night?"

There was a moment of complete silence in the class room.

Then Malfoy watch as Harry Potter's face crumbled before him. His words, it seemed, had struck a cord. He could see the spark drain from Harry's cool, jade eyes. He watched as Harry's big-bad, avenger of evil exterior cracked and flaked away. Harry suddenly seemed young, hurt, vulnerable.

For a second, Malfoy felt something he could only describe to himself as close to guilt.

It passed, of course, as all bad things do.

Soon the silence began to turn to smothered laughter. It gradually grew louder, slipping from between fingers clamped hard over mouths. Crabbe and Goyle came up behind Draco, both tearful with cackling. Draco began to laugh as well, not so much at his own joke, but at the look on Harry's face. The Mudblood and Weasley looked similarly horrified.

Draco's laughter turned into a sudden release of tension. Six years intense jealousy came spilling out of his body in the form of uncontrollable giggles. Potter face went white, then red, then purple. Draco only laughed harder.

And suddenly, Potter's face resumed it's usual color. The hurt look in his eyes was overcome by an unnatural calm. An absence of emotion. Draco's laughter became slowed and sporadic. Because, if there was one thing important thing he'd noted about Harry Potter, it was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. You could read his face like a book. But at the moment, Harry was opaque.

And Draco didn't like it. It was unnerving.

Harry's eyelids drooped to half mast. A thin smile played on his lips. He stood up and walk slowly, deliberately up to Draco. He stopped only when their noses were mere inches apart.

"Why do you want to know, Malfoy?" he asked, eyebrows raised over the black rims of his glasses, "Interested?"

Suddenly the laughter started up again, harder than ever. Potter has obviously one-uped him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Potter cocked his head to the side. His hands came up, finger tips poised and only a hare's breath away from Draco's chest. He leaned in and his lips almost brushed Draco's.

Draco leapt back, startled. He could hear Crabbe and Goyle's roaring behind him.

"Quiet! Quiet, all of you!" Snape bellowed. "In you're seats! Now! All of you! Anyone who remains stand will lose fifty house points and will spend detention with me for the rest of this week!"

Draco flopped into his seat, letting his hair fall into his face for fear anyone would see the color of his burning face. His lips were pressed together, his teeth pressing them down so much that it hurt. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt chilled to the bone, and feverish at the same time. He felt…humiliated.

Harry Potter had humiliated him in front of the entire class, not to mention Snape.

He wouldn't forget that.

He would get Harry back. He'd get him good for this, he thought, clenching his fist. Heaven help him, he'd make Potter regret what he'd done.

"Harry, that was brilliant! How did you think to do…that?"

Harry shrugged at Ron.

"Well, remember last night? How I said that everyone had been acting like, you know, they were scared of me touching them? I just thought of that. I figured that was the one thing I could do that would scare Malfoy off."

"Well, you certainly startled him, Harry!" Hermione said, jogging along side the boys as they crossed the snowy courtyard. "The look on his face was absolutely precious."

"Yeah, for once that prat had nothing to say!"

"Albeit, that was an unusual tactic, it worked like a charm! I wouldn't be surprised if he stays away from all of us for a while," Hermione said cheerfully

"I hope so. You wouldn't want to have to do it again, would you Harry? I mean, you almost had to touch the slimy bastard," Ron shuddered.

"Mmm, yeah," Harry said.

He didn't say it out loud, but it had been sort of exhilarating to get so close to Malfoy. Harry knew it was more than a little odd to be thinking it. Malfoy was his greatest enemy besides Volimort. And sometimes, he found that his hatred for the former outweighed the later.

It was just that, well he'd never been so close to Malfoy. He'd never had a chance to see his ashen gray eyes up close. He'd never had the opportunity to notice how flawless Malfoy's skin was. He had never felt the warmth coming from Malfoy's skin, which had made him realize how so obviously warm blooded he was, though they'd always suspected the opposite. He'd never smelled him before. He never knew that Mafloy smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon- a smell that reminded him of something that had always been forbidden to him at the Dursley's house: the warm snicker doodle cookies Petunia Dursley made for Dudley and Vernon.

Malfoy smelled like snicker doodle's! He wished he could tell Ron and Hermione that, but he knew they'd find it strange that he'd noticed. Hell, he thought it was strange.

"…And we'll go to The Three Broomsticks tonight to celebrate Harry's victory over Malfoy!" Hermione was saying.

Harry looked surprised, "You'd brake the rules and go to Hogsmead on a weekday?"

Hermione shrugged, "It's for you, Harry. Anyway, it's our final year at Hogwarts. I think it's time for me to do a little…misbehaving. It couldn't hurt."

"Wow!" Ron said, smiling at Hermione like an idiot. "Great!"

"After dinner then?" Hermione asked.

"Of course!" Harry said.

"Yeah!" Ron chimed.

"Ok, then. Tonight we celebrate Harry's mortification of Malfoy."