Out of the Closet, and Into Your Arms
Rating: R - RR (a rating I made up for hard R'. Cool huh?)
Author: NicktheEvil
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Summary: "What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains." In a world where queerness is relatively normal, and in a school where sex is a topic of great conversation, there lived a boy who fell in love... with Draco Malfoy.
Disclaimer: I doubt anyone here would believe me if I said that I owned Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. So let's not even go through this.
Chapter One
Confessions of an Innocent Schoolboy
&&&&
Oliver Wood, age 21, winner of Witch Weekly's Most Good-Looking Sportshunk' Award, and right arm of Britain's great Quidditch team (undefeated for four consecutive years) has received an official ban from further Quidditch licenses from the Ministry's Magical Games and Sports panel. This citation was proclaimed at yesterday's court meeting with Ministry officials, members of the Quidditch representative board, and the Minister himself.
Wood was present at the court, where his hearing took place earlier that afternoon and according to inside sources, miraculously avoided all other charges; those including a lifelong prohibition from Quidditch and a seven hundred galleon fine in compensation for the gruesome injuries inflicted upon the Chaser of the Falmouth Falcons, Marcus Agustus Flint.
Flint, currently rehabilitating at St. Mungo's, was furious when he heard of Wood's unjust sentence, healer Rosemary Snowdrop contributed when interviewed.
Completely inconsiderate of the Minister, I tell you, to come barging into the ward so late at night to inform Marcus of the disappointment. she said. Poor Marcus who's still got his bones a-mending, nearly rebroke them again in his anger! And who could blame him?
Snowdrop, a huge supporter of the Falmouth Falcons also said that Wood deserves what he got and that she hopes to see him cowering in the shadows from humiliation for the rest of his life.
Wood's plans as of now are unfortunately indistinct but there is no doubt that he will presumably continue a career in league with Quidditch.
Hopefully he has learned a lesson to not attack members of the opposing team as result of verbal abuses thrown his way, unless he wants to face definite charges and possible imprisonment in Azkaban in the future.
(Elberta Skeeter, Daily Prophet Reporter).
Harry stared disbelievingly at the stiff sheets of paper in his hands, his mouth agape and his eyebrows bent in fury.
In his head, he was almost sure, and definitely wished he was sure, that what he'd just read was a joke; perhaps he'd picked up a copy of The Quibbler, mistaking it for the Daily Prophet. Barely controlling his franticness, he flipped back the pages preceding the absurd story, accidentally ripping out a few, and raked the front page until his eyes came upon the unmistakable Old English lettering and flourished name of the British newspaper.
This is just.... this has got to bullshit! he exclaimed loudly, returning to the page where a picture of a wild-eyed Oliver was yelling soundlessly and flailing his arms in protest as ministry members tried to lead him off the Quidditch pitch.
Hermione, who had also buried her nose in a copy of the Daily Prophet, abruptly looked up at the sound of Harry's voice with pursed lips and flared nostrils.
I know! This is just ridiculous! she said, waving the paper in her clenched fist.
How can they- I mean Flint probably provoked him-
I had no idea that she had a blood-relative working for the press-
They both simultaneously paused and frowned at each other before quickly glancing back at their own copies of the paper.
Harry turned back to look at Hermione and opened his mouth uncertainly.
What are you talking about?
Hermione, looking surprised, scoffed and rolled her eyes.
What do you think I'm talking about? I mean, isn't that what you're talking about too?
What were you talking about?
I was talking about Oliver-
Hermione raised her eyebrows. Oliver? Oliver who?
Oliver Wood of course! Who else? Ron spoke up through a mouthful of egg and ham from the other side of Harry. Didn't you read the bloody story?
said Hermione shrugging. She then jabbed her finger violently at a particular article on the front page. But THIS. Take a look at that.
Harry and Ron followed Hermione's finger and read the small letters printed in italics at the end of the long article.
Ron asked doubtfully. But I thought you forced her to resign from the Daily Prophet?
Yes, but this is a different Skeeter. Hermione said exasperatedly. Didn't you read the first name? Elberta Skeeter. I had no idea that she had a blood relative involved with the ministry! That fraud of a woman!
Harry heaved an impatient sigh.
So? So? she spluttered. Rita could be working with this Elberta to get her nasty works published! She'd do anything to regain her position as writer!
Ron spooned another mountainous mouthful of egg and glared at her.
Who bloody cares about her? Wood's having a life crisis for crying out loud!
Just read that. Harry shoved his now crumpled copy onto her own and sniffing irritably, she reluctantly let her eyes graze briefly over the photo before continuing onto the story.
Harry watched half pleased as he saw her cool expression turning slowly into a frown, which then turned into a shocked look. But he soon realized that he'd mistaken the reason for her reborn fury.
There! She's written this one too!
Ron said, wrinkling his nose.
Elberta Skeeter! This story is written by her too!
Ron groaned through gritted teeth. You're hopeless Mione.
How can they kick Oliver off the team though? Harry cut in before Hermione could retort. He's the best player Puddlemere has seen in decades!
Decades? He's the reason Puddlemere's been able to remain undefeated for four years! Ron roared heatedly, his face turning red. Trust Flint to ruin things for him!
Oh you two are so immature! Hermione snorted, getting up from her seat with her nose in the air. She gathered up her books and shoved them into her bookbag. I'm going to go to the Library.
Neither Ron or Harry had a chance to reply because at that moment, Seamus and Dean leaned over the table with mysterious grins on their faces and odd gleams in their eyes.
So you guys haven't heard yet? Dean inquired, glancing sideways at Seamus and then at Ron and Harry.
Heard of what?
Seamus winked and then raised his hands in mock confusion.
No idea. Guess we'll just have to find out ay?
Find out about what?
About what we're talking about. said Dean smiling good-naturedly. You'll figure it out by tomorrow at the latest.
Ron's eyes were narrowed suspiciously and he scratched his head thoughtfully.
What's tomorrow? He turned to Harry and nudged him on the arm. Harry, what's tomorrow?
Harry shot him an incredulous look and shook his head.
How should I know?
Suddenly, Seamus sat up straighter and snapped his fingers enthusiastically as if an idea had popped into his head. His mouth twisted into a wide smile and another sly look was exchanged between him and Dean. This highly annoyed Ron and Harry even more.
By the way, you two coming to the party Saturday night?
Harry's expression cleared slightly at the mention of the party. He'd been wanting to ask about the party ever since he'd heard about it from his fellow classmates, yet no one had bothered to explain to him what the point of the party was, exactly.
What's it for? he asked slowly, studying Dean and Seamus' faces carefully so as not to miss any other looks that might help clue him in to what the hell was going on. Is like a special occasion or something?
He was a bit surprised when this time, his best friend let out a snicker and vainly attempted to suppress it a moment too late by coughing and gulping down his remaining goblet of pumpkin juice.
Harry brandished his fork at the three other Gryffindors, feeling slightly hurt and left out.
Am I the only one that doesn't know about anything that goes on around here? he demanded indignantly.
It's nothing really. Ron shrugged. Just a friendly party between friends you know.
Yeah, it's traditional- happens every year to all 17 year olds. added Dean with an agreeable nod.
More like a little get-together instead of a party. Like, there's no music and dancing and stuff but we've got the drinks, the people, the talk- it's all good. Seamus sighed happily. I've been looking forward to this for years.
But how is that special? Harry pressed bewilderedly. I mean, we've had those kinds of parties tons of times during the year before.
Dean clucked and waggled his finger in front of Harry's face.
It's not just any ol' occasion though. Like I said, it only happens once in your life, and that once in your life... well it sorta changes your future too.
Harry frowned and knitted his brows in lack of understanding. Were they going to be doing something stupid like a becoming-of-age-initiation-ceremony'? Would they have to jump into the freezing cold lake with the Giant Squid to prove their maturity? Or.....
Who's going?
Just the men. Seamus said a bit quickly. No girls.
A sigh of relief escaped Harry and he let out a indistinct chuckle. His fear of it turning out to be an orgy was erased. If it had turned out to be one.... well he might have run out of the room in fear. Who was to find out that he was.... that Harry Potter was indeed a virgin? No one. Absolutely no one. He was well aware that every guy he knew that went to Hogwarts and who was a seventh year, had long since thrown their virginity out of the window somewhere during their fifth and sixth years. Of course it wasn't like a criteria they were expected to fulfill or anything, and no one was obliged to reveal their partner's name, but you could tell easily when someone you knew had been deflowered. They acted different, they looked different, their eyes shone different... At least that was what Harry had observed in his past year at school.
He was still left in the dust about Ron's sexual status but he supposed that Ron was a step ahead of him in that department anyway. He seemed to be much more comfortable with the females than Harry. Ever since the awkward happening with Cho Chang, his former crush, he'd grown to avoid the giggling girls as much as he could. It was incredibly difficult as he had a whole fan club of swooning girls trailing after him everywhere he went each day; some doing the most bizarre things that drove Harry completely up the wall, like attempting to take pictures of him while he showered after practice, or snipping pieces of his school robes so that they could tape them into their diaries, or getting him to pick up their pens and pencils so that his fingerprints would be left on them.
Some would think that he would feel in the least, flattered by all this popularity, but on the contrary, he couldn't help but find it completely and utterly perturbing and annoying. He never used to have this kind of problem before, during the better half of his years at Hogwarts, but ever since he'd defeated Voldemort in his sixth year, and ever since his scrawny and knobbly structure had filled out into muscle and taut tones, well, it was definitely different.
Damn Quidditch. He'd thought countless of times. But it wasn't like he could abandon the fuel of his life just because he disliked all the attention he was receiving from the outcome of five days a week of hard, sweaty, and ambition driven training sessions.
Speaking of which...
Tomorrow's our next practice, isn't it? Harry mused outloud, to no one in particular.
Ron said, grinning from ear to ear. And my second year as team captain. We're gonna whoop some major arse!
Without a doubt Captain Ron! Seamus said, saluting Ron with an exaggerated jerk of his hand. You've got the best Chaser at your service!
And beater! Dean chirped.
Harry smiled and thumped Ron cheerfully on the back.
We'll definitely win the House Cup this year. Slytherin won't stand a chance.
The previous year, they'd been neck-and-neck with the conniving snakes for most of the year, but one failed pass and one missed goal block had dropped them to second place and given the Slytherin's the House Cup. Ron had remained depressed for a good few weeks after the final game, but all the team members had worked their butts off (even more than in their practices) to try and cheer him up by telling him that next year, things would be much better because Ron would then be an experienced team Captain. Then during the summer, the team (well, mostly Harry) had pitched in money to buy enough tickets for each of the seven players to go and see a Chudley Cannon's game. The Cannons had played The Ballycastle Bats and The Bats, being a nationally inconsistent team which ranked twelfth among the thirteen national teams, lost spectacularly to the The Cannons.
Ron had claimed that he was forever inspired by the brilliant game and announced that during his final year as Gryffindor Team Captain, he would train and coach like no other Captain had ever coached their team players and would victoriously win the House Cup by a large stride.
Harry had secretly been a tad bit worried about the long hours of training they'd do, stacked upon the piles and piles of homework they would be receiving in classes as it was N.E.W.T.s year for them, but so far, with the help of Hermione and the loss of an average of four hours of sleep each night, he'd been able to complete the work in time.
Now, the end of October was nearing and the first match against Ravenclaw was drawing closer. None of the Gryffindors were very worried about the game, since the only team that was really much competition was Slytherin, and they wouldn't have to play them until December. They still had plenty of time to train for that big match.
Well, we're gonna head to class, but we'll catch you guys later, Seamus grinned, pushing himself off of the long bench and gathering up his bag. We've got Divination and it's waaaay across the school-
What do you two have? Dean asked, getting up and stretching out his arms and legs.
Harry frowned distastefully.
Ron's mouth twitched.
I've got Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Seamus cooed sarcastically. Let me guess, you got it in for the new teacher?
Ron blushed and shook his head hastily.
Bloody hell no! She's a bird all right but...
You're interested in someone else. Dean finished wisely for him.
Ron's face turned even more crimson and he swallowed.
Sort of... I guess.
You know, Seamus said speculatively, tapping his chin. I don't see the point of Ron coming to the party anymore do you Dean? I mean, he's obviously smitten with-
Zip it. Ron growled furiously. You're not supposed to tell about the party to those that don't know.
Harry smiled dryly.
Thanks Ron, I'm right here you know.
Ron shrugged apologetically.
It's the rules mate. And plus, you'll have more fun that way, honestly.
Harry grunted and tried not to look disbelieving even though he was feeling considerably skeptic about the whole party now. It didn't sound to appealing, whatever it was.
We'll see you guys. Dean said, waving his hand.
Yeah, see you. Harry replied. Guess we should head off too. he said with a sigh.
Yeah, reckon so. Ron said. They both pushed away their empty plates and goblets and heaved their heavy bookbags onto the table before unstraddling the bench and getting up.
Normally, the day would start off with double something or other with one of the houses, but today, things were going to be a little different. And the fact that he no longer would be attending the same classes as his best friends was something that he definitely wasn't used to.
It all had to do with the coming N.E.W.T. s. Seventh years were expected to take all and only the classes that were required within their field of studies according to what job they wanted to pursue after graduation. All those classes corresponding to each job, would be divided among the whole student body of seventh years and unlike in years past, the four houses would be studying together. Harry's field, or the Auror's Field, he knew would only consist of very very few students. Ron's field, or the Ministry of Magic Field 4, would consist of more than two fifths of the students. Almost everyone wanted to do some kind of work in the Ministry and it wasn't a wonder as the pay was exceptionally good and the rank very high.
Hermione's Field, or the Teaching Field would have a fair few of the percentage as well.
Harry had already been aware of the classes he would need to be taking that year in order to pass the tests to become an Auror. There were some that he felt okay with like, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Advanced Charms, and Transfiguration; but then there were the ones that he'd cringed at just to think he'd have to endure them for another whole year, and the fact that this year, the teachers would be more demanding and severe did not help his conscience at all. Those classes were Divination, Muggle Studies, and Potions.
Potions. Snape. The ugly greasy git that he loathed ever since first year. Could things get any worse? He seriously hoped not.
And Muggle Studies? He hardly needed that as he lived with the worst muggles that ever existed in the entire world. Who could be more muggleish than the Dursley's? They were an excellent example, in Harry's opinion.
The only bit of satisfaction that he could feel grateful about was that the Auror classes would be considerably smaller, and that he wouldn't have to endure any of Malfoy for the entire year. He had a hunch that Malfoy would probably be in Ron's field, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for his red headed friend. If there was anyone who hated the ferret even more than Harry, it had to be Ron, and if matters took a turn in the unfortunate, and Malfoy had decided to become a member of the Ministry as well.... then Ron would be stuck with the jerk for nine whole months. NINE WHOLE MONTHS. And with neither Harry or Hermione to fend for him or hold him back.
How long will it be until they rip each other's guts out? Harry wondered in guilty amusement to himself. Of course, if Malfoy made any snide remarks about Ron's family or his wealth, then that would be the end of him, for he could remember quite clearly the day in Diagon Alley when Ron had claimed that he would NOT be taking any shit from Malfoy this year. And by meaning of not taking any shit, Ron meant a quick and very painful murder on his part. He'd also mentioned lots of punching, blood, and spilling intestines. Although that was before Hermione had smacked him smartly across the face and said that if Ron attempted any of the things that he said he would do, than Hermione would indefinitely give him detention for a whole month.
Yes, Hermione was Head Girl this year and because of this new duty it seemed, she was immensely intent on keeping things friendly between each of the houses. We must forget our differences and come together- she'd said countless of times over the summer. Now that the Darkness is gone, we shouldn't have to keep feuding with each other. It's ridiculous!
But was it really necessary to make a truce with the trio's archenemy of six years? Was that even possible? And the fact that Malfoy was Head Boy unnerved him quite a bit, even though he would never admit that to anyone. He knew that with someone like him for Head Boy, the Slytherin would not hesitate to dock every single point from the Gryffindors and would neither feel offense or guilt in the responsibility of giving detention to any and every student who adorned scarlet on their school robes.
If only Harry had that power to bestow such punishment upon any student he wished, then Malfoy would be out of Hogwarts before he could even say fuck you'.
So who else do you know who's gonna be in the Auror class? Ron's voice pulled him out of his reverie.
Harry tilted his head. Dunno. Didn't ask anyone.
There's loads of Ravenclaws in mine. Ron said grimacing. The know-it-alls.
Harry laughed at the look on Ron's face. It was the same look he got each time Hermione tried to nag them into going to the Library with her.
Wonder what Malfoy's gonna do after Hogwarts? Harry pondered. Obviously, there isn't a Death Eater' group so it's either something to do with the Ministry or-
Maybe he'll join the Secret Service's group to try and learn the secrets so that he can pass them on to his good-for-nothing-rich-bastard of a dad. Ron spat coldly.
Harry hesitated for a moment before glancing at Ron.
He's... dead. Remember?
Who is?
Lucius Malfoy.
Ron's eyes widened in immediate recollection.
Oh, right. Forgot. he snorted. Deserved it if you ask me.
Harry just nodded and didn't reply. No one. Absolutely no one, knew of the true happenings of the Final War that had led to Voldemort's defeat except Albus Dumbledore. Not even Ron or Hermione. No one knew how much of a painful ordeal it had been for Harry; that it'd taken more than a single curse to end the Darkness that had engraved itself deep into the dirt of the earth. No one knew of the numerous Unforgivable curses that he'd suffered, under the wands of the Death Eaters. No one knew that he'd killed more than just one being that night. No one knew that it was he, Harry that had killed Lucius Malfoy. Not even Draco Malfoy.
He wondered what the younger Malfoy would do if he found out about the true identity of the murderer responsible for the death of his father. Would he kill Harry? Would he perform the killing curse on the spot regardless of all the teachers around them? Or would he sneak into the Gryffindor dormitories during the night and finish him off in secrecy?
Harry shook his head and dismissed the idea.
Malfoy didn't even know the password into the tower for merlin's sake. He returned his attention to Ron just as they approached the main staircase that wound both upwards toward the first floor and downwards toward the dungeons.
Well good luck in Potions, mate. Ron said, clapping a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Don't let the old git get to you.
Harry snorted and readjusted his loaded bookbag onto his aching shoulder. Good luck with DADA.
See you.
See you.
Harry turned around and began descending the steep flight of stairs down to the lower floors, where each step brought a colder temperature and a dimmer light.
He just hoped that what was ahead of him wouldn't be too hellish. But alas, if only wishes came true more often.
Woohoo! First chapter up! I'll work on getting the second chapter up ASAP. How do you like it so far? What do you think of the start? Any possibilities do you think of this becoming a good story? I've got great plans for this so don't be in doubt.
Reviews would kick major arse too.
And don't worry. This will become a fully fledged, very hot Draco/Harry slash story. I would have nothing else.
-Nick (the evil)