A/N: Hello, and merry Christmas (just in case I don't get another chapter up and running before the holiday arrives)! Thank you, reviewers, for the feedback on chapter thirteen. Warning: this chapter is rather frustrating, due to confusion induced by alcohol consumption and its effects afterward, and the fact that this chapter's in Harry's perspective. There is also some drug use. When I portray Harry using drugs, I don't want you to think that I'm trying to make him look like a wasted bad-ass. Sorry, if there's confusion or outrage. The drug use isn't necessarily essential to the story. I guess I'm just using it to portray a more, as I label it, "human" side to the Gryffindors. Now, I don't mean human in the sense that everybody does drugs and stuff like that. I actually don't know how to describe it. Maybe you can try to do it for me because this is confusing the hell out of me, too. And there's not going to be too much sex in this chapter because the sex scenes I had originally written (or rather, typed) sort of lessened the story. Sorry. Actually, the more in touch they get with their feelings, the less sex there'll be. Doesn't that just make you happy? Don't worry, there will still be sex. Just not as much. Anyway, there's not much else to say, except this chapter is bound to frustrate at least a few people. And now, here's chapter fourteen!

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Chapter Fourteen

"You are an asshole, king of the castle

I am the meager; follow the leader"

"No Games," Breaking Benjamin

Harry woke up that morning, feeling, to put it mildly, like shit. He more or less rolled out of bed and sprawled out on the floor, then dragged himself slowly across the cold stones to the door. He pulled himself up to his feet, then trudged along clumsily to the bathroom. Seamus was already leaving one of the stalls, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. When he noticed Harry standing there, he grimaced. "Good morning," Harry said wryly.

"If you have to throw up, don't use the middle stall," Seamus instructed. "I missed."

It was Harry's turn to grimace. "Thanks for letting me know, Seamus."

"Only here to help, Harry. I thought I told you last time to keep me away from that brew from hell."

"And last night you would have hexed us six ways to Sunday if we'd actually done so," Harry retorted. He really needed to be sick. And soon.

"You should know better than to listen to me. Then again, as soon as this hangover's over, I'll want more." Seamus shrugged and exited the bathroom slowly, cringing when the hinges squeaked loudly.

Harry dove into the nearest stall and emptied the contents of his stomach, noticing the bowl now looked as if he had put one of those bleach capsules that made the water blueinto the filter; Ambrosia was a bright, thick, flourescent blue. He flushed it quickly, then grudgingly peered into Seamus' stall to see if he'd have to clean it up. Normally, he would have left the job to Filch, but Filch knew what regurgitated Ambrosia looked like, and Ambrosia could only be acquired at Deity. And Deity meant students out past curfew, underage drinking, and many other items on a long list. Fortunately, there were no traces of blue anywhere on the floor. Thank God. He left the stall quickly and resumed contributing his portion of blue liquid into the adjacent toilet. After what seemed like hours, his body finally seemed satisfied. He had definitely drank way too much the night before. He knew this because, firstly, he usually didn't have to throw up in the morning anymore, and, secondly, he couldn't remember a damned thing that had happened. Well, there were foggy memories, such as seeing Malfoy there, putting up with a few jackasses, good music, and so on. But the specifics, particularly after hisseventh or eighth drink, were all a blur.

Harry shook his head slowly, rubbing his temples, and made his way over to the sink. "Thank God it's Saturday," he muttered, turning on the tap and splashing his face with icy cold water.

"You can say that again," Dean muttered, coming out of the stall that was on the other side of the one Seamus had used.

Harry looked at Dean via the mirror's reflection, startled. "When the hell did you get in there?"

"You were coughing up all kinds of good stuff. Probably didn't hear me," Dean replied, his voice hoarse. He massaged his throat. "Why the hell did I drink so much last night?"

"I don't know," Harry sputtered, still splashing at his face.

Dean turned on the faucet next to Harry's and cupped his hands, bringing water up to his lips and sipping slowly. "Probably for lack of a proper relationship. Isn't that pathetic?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. You're heterosexual. You go to a gay dance club for a good time. I'd drink myself under the table and then some."

"Thanks for making me get in touch with how pathetic I am."

"Hey, I like to help people. It's in my nature." Harry swished his mouth out with water, then spat it into the sink. And then he repeated the procedure until the bitter taste of bile was gone.

"What did you drink so much for, then?" Dean asked.

"Relationship trouble," Harry replied honestly.

"Partner, or lack thereof?"

"What, have you suddenly become Seamus?" Harry asked, not looking up from the sink.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." Dean punched Harry's shoulder lightly. "Don't kill yourself, though. Just come over to the bar next time and bitch about relationships with me, okay?"

"Right." Harry chuckled. "I think Seamus had it worse."

"Probably. He usually does. That boy does not know when to stop."

They had to cut the conversation short when a younger student entered the room. "So, anyway, I'm going to go back to bed," Dean said. "See you." He left the bathroom. Harry stared at the closed door for a few seconds, then turned off the tap. He wiped off his face with a paper towel, then left as well.

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Harry sat down at Gryffindor table with no intention of eating or drinking a goddamned thing. When Hermione tried to pressure him to at least try a roll or something, he said, and none too friendly, to shove her rolls up her ass. Then he realized that she didn't know he had a hangover, and he instantly apologized and told her he wasn't feeling very well. And he heard Seamus snicker a few seats away, then moan when he laughed a bit too hard. Harry grinned maliciously, making Hermione even more nervous and confused. Realizing there was no way to get out ofthe situation without telling her straight out that he had a bad hangover, Harry said he was going to go up to bed and sleep off his headache and left as quickly as he possibly could.

When he reached his dorm, he saw that Dean was already sprawled out on the bed, his feet hanging over the baseboard. He looked up when Harry entered. "You wouldn't mind closing the curtains, would you?" he asked.

"Why don't you just close your own?" Harry asked.

"I'm about to. I just don't want to feel like someone's shoved dull knives into my eyes when the sun shines into them."

"What if someone opens the window curtains again?" Harry asked, already closing the second set of curtains.

"I'll kill 'em. Kedavra them right where they stand."

"Wouldn't that be hard to do, considering you wouldn't be able to focus very well?" Harry asked, closing the last set of curtains.

"Quit raining on my parade, Potter."

Harry smirked and flopped down on his own bed. "G'morning, Thomas." He pulled the blankets over his head and drifted off to sleep, hearing Dean's voice in the distance, saying, "Sweet dreams, smartass."

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Harry woke up later, feeling considerably better. He opened the curtains and found it was very, very dark. "What, is there an eclipse or something?" he muttered sleepily.

"No, idiot," Dean groaned, flopping over onto his other side. "You closed the curtains, remember?"

"Oh, right. What time is it?" He rubbed at his eyes and reached out for his wristwatch.

"I'm pretty sure it's around four or something like that."

"Yeah. Half past, actually." Harry tossed his watch onto a pile of his dirty clothes, then stretched out on his back and let sleep claim him again.

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The next time Harry woke up it was absolutely pitch black, and he had one hell of a time finding the nearest window so he could open the curtains. When he opened them, he turned around to scan the dorm and noticed that it was night time and everybody was in bed. Ron hadn't come to wake him up for dinner. Good thing, too. Harry probably would have hexed him. He left the dorm, happy to be rid of his splitting headache and swirling stomach, and made his way out of the tower. He didn't have any particular destination, he just didn't want to be in bed. When he reached the end of the corridor he realized the clinking sounds he was hearing were, in fact, coming from his own pants; he hadn't changed clothes since the night before. He sighed, contemplating going back up to his dorm, then decided against it. If anybody caught him he could just say he was on his way to Madam Pomfrey's; most people in the school probably knew he had been sick all day by now.

And then he was pulled aside quickly, and Malfoy was glaring at him. "I felt bloody awful this morning," he complained.

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"I'm never drinking that shit again," Malfoy declared.

"Liar," Harry stated simply.

"Without a doubt," Malfoy agreed. "That stuff works wonders."

"Told you so."

"Let's have sex."

"Of course."

Malfoy and Harry made their way to a nearby supply closet and slipped inside, locking the door behind them. Malfoy began kissing Harry enthusiastically, and Harry fumbled with Malfoy's pants. "Can you believe," Harry gasped, "that we haven't had sex in days?"

"Yes."

"Me, too."

Malfoy shoved Harry against the wall and undid his pants, pulling them down around his ankles. "These chains are... kinky," Malfoy commented before he dropped to his knees and started sucking Harry off.

"You haven't had sex for awhile. You probably think everything's kinky right now." Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. "Then again," he added, "so do I." His breath hitched in his throat when Malfoy did something particularly delightful with his tongue. "Christ, Malfoy," Harry choked. He could feel Malfoy grin wickedly before repeating the trick. Harry attempted to dig his fingernails into the wall and clenched his teeth until he believed they were permanently fused together. He thrust forward into Malfoy's mouth and came within minutes, due to Malfoy's expertise and the fact that he hadn't, as mentioned, had sexual contact of any kind for days.

Malfoy rose to his feet and switched positions with Harry. "No time to actually fuck tonight," he explained.

"Really?" Harry asked, leaning forward to get the job done.

"Too tired. Haven't slept all day."

Harry licked the tip of Malfoy's cock. "Why?"

"Crabbe and Goyle are idiots," Malfoy gasped.

Harry chuckled, then stopped asking questions. Malfoy came just as quickly as Harry, and then they were getting dressed again. "Last night was fun," Harry said. "Even though I can't remember most of what we did."

Malfoy looked at him oddly. "Yeah," he replied.

"What?" Harry asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," Malfyo said hastily.

"No, seriously, what's wrong?" Harry needed to know; there was something about last night that was screaming at him in the back of his brain, but he just couldn't quite recall what it was for the life of him.

"We were drunk. Probably didn't mean anything." Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, then exited the closet.

Harry followed him, nearly stepping on his heels. "Malfoy," he said sharply, "what happened?"

Malfoy whirled around. "It was probably just drunken stupidity, so forget about it, okay?"

"How the hell can I forget about it if I don't even know what 'it' is?" Harry snapped.

"Exactly," Malfoy replied. He started to walk away again.

Harry grabbed his arm. "No. Tell me," he commanded.

"Let. go. of. me," Malfoy said slowly, his voice low. It wasn't a dangerous tone; he was nervous. Something had happened the night before and Malfoy did not want Harry to remember what it was.

"This is stupid," Harry spat. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable knowing that Malfoy was so freaked. Maybe it was because the last time Malfoy had been nervous, Harry had been close to paranoia. "All of these mind games... they're driving me crazy. I'm seventeen, for fuck's sake." He let go of Malfoy's arm and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I still want to know, though."

Malfoy sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "You'll remember eventually," he said, sounding regretful, apprehensive. "If it helps, you asked me a question." With that, he turned around and left Harry standing in the darkened corridor.

A question? What question? Harry couldn't remember what he'd asked Malfoy. And it was probably something big, too. He hoped he'd be able to find out what the hell had happened before the weekend was over or he would not be able to focus in his classes. And he had to actually show up in class because, aside from his excuses wearing thin, he needed to get caught up or he'd fail. Harry sighed and ambled along the corridor. So he'd asked Malfoy something. Had Malfoy given an answer? Either he had, what with his being so apprehensive, or he had been going to give him one tonight. Harry scuffed the heel of his shoe against the floor. "Damnit," he cursed under his breath. He was never going to drink that much ever again.

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Sunday morning and Harry felt as close to normal as he could possibly be. And he still couldn't remember what he had done on Friday night for the life of him. He threw on whatever clothes were within reach, regardless of whether or not they were clean, then went to the library to finish his homework. He was pulling a book off the shelf for his Transfiguration assignment when Pansy tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, hot stuff," she murmured jokingly.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean by 'what?' Can't a girl say hi without a reason?" She leaned against the bookshelf.

"A girl, yes. A Slytherin girl... it's unusual, that's all." Harry shrugged. "It'll take some getting used to. So you don't have any particular reason for walking up to me and saying hi?"

"First of all, I didn't say 'hi,' I said 'hey,'" Pansy replied. "And second of all, I actually do have a reason."

"Oh?" Harry made his way to the table he had claimed as his own for the day; he'd definitely be there all day due to the amount of homework that had piled up because of his absences. He dropped the stack of books he had collected onto the table and grimaced.

Pansy noticed and laughed. "I can help, you know," she offered. At Harry's questioning look, she grinned. "Free of charge."

Harry scoffed. "Right. You won't charge me, just like you didn't have a reason to talk to me."

"Hey, a Slytherin talking to a Gryffindor is news in this school. And I like to make news; good publicity. Even if people hate me for it." Pansy crossed her arms. "I just wanted to let you know that I saw you with Draco last night."

Harry looked at Pansy, studying her intently. "And?"

"And nothing. I'm not going to tell anybody. Hell, I'm not even going to bring it up again unless you ask me about it. Promise," she added at Harry's disbelieving look. "I just wanted to ask you if you've told anybody about it yet."

"No," Harry replied. "But Dean knows. That is, if he isn't too drunk to remember."

"Dean's cool. Not that I've talked to him or anything. I'm just a pretty good judge of character." Pansy shook her hair out of her eyes. "You have to be in my world." Harry's eyebrows raised in question. "Don't ask," Pansy warned. "So Dean's the only one who knows... besides me?"

"Like I said, if he remembers. We were all pretty messed up at the time."

Pansy nodded. "Right. You know that if you don't tell your best friends soon, they're going to find out all on their own, right? And you know that, not only will they be shocked that you're seeing Malfoy... let alone a Slytherin... they'll be angry and hurt that you figured you wouldn't be able to tell them?"

Harry sank into a chair. "Yeah," he sighed. He laughed humorlessly. "They don't even know I like guys."

Pansy exhaled. "That's a tough one. You should have seen the looks on my friends' faces when I told them I like girls."

Harry looked up sharply. "Really?" he asked after a moment.

Pansy smiled. "Yeah. Millie and I have been together for a little over a year now. We just keep it under wraps because of... you know, the rumor mill?"

"No. What is this rumor mill you speak of?" Harry asked sarcastically. "I was the alleged Heir of Slytherin in our second year, remember?" He rolled his eyes. "They were so convincing I thought I was for awhile, too."

Pansy laughed. "You ain't a Slytherin, baby."

Harry shrugged. "Not according to the Sorting Hat," he replied. At Pansy's inquiring look, he grinned. "Every time I encounter that thing, it tells me I have the potential to be great in Slytherin. It really pisses me off sometimes. Particularly when I was trying to convince myself I was not the Heir. Didn't help that I was a Parseltongue and I could hear the damned basilisk sliding through the pipes."

"Huh. That must have been a blast." Pansy shuddered. "I'd have hated to be the Heir."

"Really?" Harry asked incredulously. "The Slytherin? Well, the second Slytherin, anyway, considering Salazar."

"Potter, I may be proud to be in Slytherin and I might find Muggle-borns a nuisance, but I don't want them dead." Pansy fiddled with a piece of parchment. "Nobody deserves to have their life taken away from them. It's just too precious."

Harry nodded. "How many people in your House feel that way?"

"Probably everyone," Pansy replied. "Come on, it's one thing to be nasty to someone. It's another to want them dead. And it's a whole other level to actually follow through with that wish and kill them." She shuddered. "And don't think I know this from personal experience. Well, it's in my family, anyway. My parents are constantly worrying about what He wants, and my older sister, Violet, was just initiated at the end of last year." She held her head in her hands. "You change when you kill someone, Harry. You're never the same again. Violet used to be so fun. She was hilarious. Now she doesn't even smile."

Harry reached out and rubbed Pansy's arm awkwardly. "Watching people die changes you, too."

Pansy looked up. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said honestly. "One year it's Diggory, and the next year it's... yeah, I know about Black," she confirmed. "Heard about it through my parents. Not directly, though. They were talking about it in the living room one night. Idiots. They'll get themselves killed." They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, then Pansy stood up. "I've got to finish my homework, too. Remember what I said about telling your friends, okay?" She smiled at Harry weakly, then left the library.

Harry stared at the door for a minute or so, then shook his head incredulously. "Did I just have a heart to heart with a Slytherin?" he asked nobody in particular.

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Harry stumbled up to the tower around eleven, cursing the mountain of homework Snape had given him to make up for his absences. And he still needed to finish his Charms homework. Fortunately he didn't have to worry about that until tomorrow, since he didn't have to see Professor Flitwick until Tuesday. He entered the Gryffindor common room, tripping over the portrait hole and nearly falling flat on his face. He picked up the homework he had dropped, then set it down messily on the table.

"Drunk again, Harry?" Seamus asked from the couch. His voice was slurred.

"No, just tired. You?"

"No. But I've got some of this," Seamus said, holding up a bottle of Everclear.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Finnegan, hide that before someone sees it!" Harry hissed. He looked around the room, then listened for anyone moving about upstairs.

"Nobody'll come. It's late." Seamus sank into the couch so that his legs were stretched out across the floor. "I couldn't sleep so I borrowed some of this from Dean." He explained. He looked up at Harry expectantly. "Want some?" Harry shook his head. "Oh, come on, Harry," Seamus whined. "It's no fun by myself."

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, then walked over to the couch slowly. "Just a little bit," he warned.

"That's more like it." Seamus smiled, handing Harry the bottle. "What do you think everyone would say if they found out we did stuff like this?"

"Teachers would expel us. Students wouldn't believe it." Harry swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol. "I hate this," he muttered.

"Then why do you drink it?" Seamus asked.

"Because it's addicting. Because people like you don't stop nagging me to. Because I'm an idiot who can't think for himself." Harry closed his eyes, waiting for theEverclear to affect him. He didn't have to wait long. "Ugh," he moaned, covering his eyes with his arm. "Why the hell did we start doing this shit anyway?"

"Because a bunch of guys at Deity basically had us at knife point," Seamus replied groggily. "It's amazing we didn't kill ourselves."

"Yeah," Harry murmured. He moved so his head was in Seamus' lap and stretched himself out on the couch so his feet were sticking out past the armrest. "I hate doing stuff like this."

"Me, too," Seamus replied.

"And yet we still do it."

"Yep. We should stop."

"Definitely."

"Soon."

"Uh-huh."

"Starting tomorrow."

"Absolutely."

"Or next weekend."

"Of course."

"Or we could just wait until after finals are over."

"Seamus, shut up. You're confusing me."

"Sorry." Seamus giggled. "I'll make it up to you." He bent over and kissed Harry awkwardly. Harry pulled back a little, then kissed him back, feeling extremely groggy.

After a few minutes, he shook his head and sat up. "Damned Everclear," he cursed, rubbing his eyes. He stood up carefully. "Come on, we'll help each other get up the stairs." He held out a hand to Seamus, who took it and pulled himself up slowly.

After a few minutes of trying to get up the stairs, Seamus yawned. "Maybe we should just go back to the couch and sleep there tonight before we kill ourselves."

Harry looked back at the couch, then nodded. "Yeah. And get rid of that Everclear."

"Right," Seamus replied. Both of them knew that thealcohol was still going to be kept at the bottom of Dean's trunk.

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Harry woke up around four o'clock in the morning, knowing he would not be able to get back to sleep. He made his way up to his dorm, swallowed some aspirin to fight the headache he knew would arrive sometime before classes started, then grabbed his Charms homework so he could finish it in the common room. He sat back down on the couch and pushed Seamus' legs out of the way gently so he wouldn't wake him up, then finished his homework within fifteen minutes. By the time he was done, he was tired again but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep without being unable to focus in class. So he stood up, found his towel, and went to take a shower.

When he came back out, Dean was sitting on the couch next to Seamus, and they were talking. "Hey," he called in greeting, running his hands through his hair. He had the towel wrapped around his waist since he'd forgotten to grab a fresh set of clothing.

"Hey yourself," Dean shot back. "You don't look like shit."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning.

"Seamus, here, on the other hand..."

"Hey!" Seamus complained, swatting at Dean's arm half-heartedly. "I'm gorgeous."

"Sure you are," Harry said sarcastically. "Go take a shower before classes start or Snape'll find you out as soon as you walk through the door."

"Fine," Seamus said, mock-pouting. "How about I borrow your towel?" he said mischievously, reaching out playfully to snatch Harry's towel away.

"How about I hide everything you've got in your trunk?" Harry asked.

"You can hide my shit, too." Dean said.

Seamus immediately clamped his hands to his sides. "See you in a few," he said. He skipped off to find his towel, singing, "I'm off to take a shower," and clicking his heels together occasionally.

"That boy is messed up," Dean commented, staring after Seamus.

"Without a doubt." Harry agreed, nodding.

"And I love him for it."

"Don't know what I'd do without him." Harry sat down next to Dean.

"What, are you going to go through the whole day wearing that ensemb?"

"Sure, why not?" Harry said, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes.

"It would definitely be the fashion statement of the year." Dean grinned. "With the exception of that one time when Levon Firth streaked across the Quidditch pitch last year."

"That was definitely a statement to be reckoned with."

"Uh-huh." Dean looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "So, about the other night..."

Harry turned to face Dean. "Yeah?"

"What's going on there?"

"I'm not honestly sure," Harry replied. "And I don't really feel like talking about it at the moment."

"All right." Dean nodded. "And I'm not even going to say that I'm here for you if you need me, because I'm sure you already know that."

"Yep. Thanks." Harry stood up. "I think I'm going to wear clothes after all."

"Too bad. You would have sent a shockwave through the school."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe some other time."

"It will be the newest fashion craze. Everyone'll be running around in what they'd call 'shower chic' or something lame like that."

Harry shuddered. "God, no." He hurried up the stairs and changed into his school clothes, then returned to the common room.

Dean was still sitting on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He turned around to look at Harry when he joined him on the couch. "So we got pretty fucked up on Friday."

"Yeah."

"Want to go again this weekend?"

"If nothing comes up, sure."

"Looking forward to it."

"Don't be too expectant. You never know what'll happen in this place."

"Expectant for what?" Seamus asked, entering the room.

"This weekend," Harry replied.

"You mean You Know Where?" Seamus asked, whispering loudly.

"Yes, now shut up," Dean muttered.

Seamus nodded. "I'm there. Definitely."

"It's not definite yet, Seamus," Dean said. "It depends on whether or not any of us have plans."

They never went to Deity unless all three could go; it wasn't fair to the person who got left behind, and there was more of a chance of coming out of the place alive if they went together. Seamus eyed Harry. "It's karaoke night on Friday, Harry," he said pleadingly.

"We'll see, Seamus." Harry inhaled deeply. "I need a smoke." Dean started to reach into his pocket for a cigarette. Harry held out his hand. "No. I need to cut back." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go down to the Hall for breakfast."

"I'll go, too." Dean said, standing up. "It's getting boringup here."

"Well, I can't be here by myself," Seamus complained.

"So, what's keeping you?"

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Harry couldn't stop staring at Ron and Willow. And every time he looked at them, he felt a fresh wave of jealousy wash over him, followed by a stab of guilt; he shouldn't be angry with his best friend for falling in love with someone... and having that someone love him back... before he did. Besides, Hermione was going through hell, too. But that still didn't keep him from feeling miserable. He stabbed into his grapefruit and shoved a bite into his mouth.

"What did that grapefruit ever do to you?" Hermione asked. She ripped a roll in half and started buttering it savagely.

"I don't know about this grapefruit," Harry remarked, "but that roll must have done something really bad to piss you off so much."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "It's my way of getting through it."

"What, beating up your food? Okay..." Harry held up his hands protectively when Hermione threatened to smack him with her knife, "whatever works for you." It was then that he noticed Malfoy signaling him. He realized Malfoy had been trying to get his attention for awhile when hetook inhis annoyed expression. He nodded. Malfoy talked to his fellow Slytherins for a few more minutes, then left the room casually.

Harry talked to the people sitting around him about nothing in particular until he was pretty sure a considerable amount of time had passed, then left the Great Hall, saying he was going to the bathroom. He met up with Malfoy in the usual place.

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"You have no idea how great it is for me having things back to normal," Harry said, zipping up his jeans.

"Probably the same way it is for me," Malfoy replied, stretching out his arms. "Of course, you could have been a bit easier, considering I have to sit down during classes."

"All the more reason for us to keep up the normal routine, then." Harry shrugged into his robes, then straightened his tie.

"Right." Malfoy combed his hair with his fingers. "How do I look?"

Sexy. "Fine. How about me?"

"Normal."

Harry snorted. "Thanks."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What, did you want me to say you look beautiful? Ravishing? Irresistable?"

"I'm not even going to reply to that," Harry said calmly. Malfoy had sounded so damn sarcastic that it made him want to scream. And he was pissed off because he didn't know why. "You know this talking thing we do after we have sex? We shouldn't do it anymore." Because it was going to mess everything up even more.

"'Talking thing?' This isn't talking, Potter. This is called avoiding talking. I'd know, what with it being the mainmethod of conversation in my family."

"Fine. Then we won't not talk anymore as well." He didn't want the deal to end; how else was he going to have sex at school?

"We weren't supposed to in the first place, considering the terms of the deal and all."

"Well, it takes two to have a conversation, you know."

"Not necessarily. And you started the whole talking thing, anyway."

"We sound like girls." Fine. Throw The Mistake in his face, then.

"You started that, too."

Arrogant bastard. "That's it," Harry said, fists clenching, "I'm out of here."

"And there goes Potter, the king of meaningless confrontations." Malfoy waved dramatically.

"No, that would be you, Malfoy," Harry spat. "And if you need another sexual pick-me-up, you can go fuck yourself for all I care." And with that, he stormed out of the room. So much for following the normal routine again. Harry sighed and walked slowly to his Charms class, wondering what the hell he'd just done. Fucked things up again, that's what. And why? Because he was messed up in the head.

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Harry and Ron ran into Potions late. Harry because he wanted to avoid seeing Malfoy as long as possible, and Ron because he'd wanted to make out with Willow. Their tardiness resulted in the usual ten points each from Gryffindor, and they sat down on either side of Hermione, who gave each of them an admonishing glare.

Ten minutes into the class and Harry felt like he was in hell. Snape was his usual self, Malfoy made it a point to not even glance in his direction, Ron kept talking about how great Willow was, Harry was so intent on getting Malfoy to forgive him so they could have sex again that he couldn't concetrate long enough to make the potion Snape had instructed them to brew, Dean and Seamus kept asking him what to do and he eventually had to tell them to shut up and leave him the hell alone, and Hermione wouldn't help him or Ron because they'd been late. So he'd inevitably fucked up the potion before Neville even had the chance to take the spotlight for himself, and Snape had deducted more points and made an example of Harry's stupidity. This resulted in Harry's leaving Potions, cursing everybody he could think of. Particularly Malfoy, who he had decided was an annoying, self-absorbed, two-faced asshole.

He sat down next to Dean and Seamus during lunch since Ron was sitting at Ravenclaw table with Willow, and Hermione wasn't talking to him. He looked at Dean before saying, "We're definitely going this weekend. Or at least we are as far as I'm concerned."

Seamus grinned. "All right," he said, his mouth full of apple.

"I'm in," Dean stated. "What was up with you in Potions?"

Harry sighed. "You know why I was so sick on Saturday?"

"Yeah..."

"Same thing today."

Dean nodded sympathetically. "Don't screw with yourself too much, okay?"

Harry shrugged. "I try not to. It just happens."

Seamus had been watching the exchange, a confused expression on his face. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" he asked.

"Forget it, Seamus," Dean replied. "You already know too much." He got up and left.

"But I don't understand!" Seamus complained, perplexed.

"Exactly," Harry said before leaving as well. Seamus looked down at his empty plate for the rest of the lunch break as if it could give him all the answers if he just stared long enough.

0000

By the time classes were over for the day, Harry was completely miserable. He'd started a fight with Malfoy for no reason, and now Malfoy was pissed. And when Malfoy was pissed, there was no sex. And when there was no sex, Harry was even crazier than he was normally.Stupid Malfoy. Harry slammed his head against the table, ignoring the many people who hissed at him for not being quiet in the library. He groaned when the pain from the impact with the hard wood finally hit him, and when the crowd hissed again, he flipped them off.

"Someone's a bit touchy," Pansy remarked, sitting in the chair next to him.

Harry sat up, rubbing his forehead. "You noticed?"

"Well, you do mask it rather well," Pansy said sarcastically.

Harry shook his head. "If you don't have anything nice to say to me, leave before I go crazy."

"You're already crazy, honey," Pansy said sympathetically. "If it's any consolation, however, Draco is just as messed up as you are right now."

Harry raised an eyebrow quizzically.

Pansy grinned ruefully. "We're all avoiding him right now because he's making us miserable. Can't say a damn thing to him without his biting your head off."

"He looked like he was going to bite my head off when I left Potions today."

"Actually, if you can believe this, he's taking his anger out on everybody else. He hasn't mentioned your name once today."

"That probably means we're worse off than I thought. This is great," Harry moaned, letting his head bang against the desk again. "I'm not going to have sex for at least a week."

Pansy laughed ruefully, brushing the nape of his neck with her fingertips. "Sorry, sweetie." She started picking at the edge of the table. "I don't know if this helps or anything, but I'm having problems with Millie right now, too."

"Really, now." It helped a bit, but Harry was too sulky to admit it.

"Yeah. She asked me what I want to do after school's over. I don't know how to tell her how I feel about the whole thing. She's annoyed now, to say the least." Pansy grimaced. "I guess I'm just not all that articulate when it comes to saying what I want to do with my life."

"What do you want to do?" Harry asked, sitting up again.

"I'm not sure. I know what I don't want to do, however," Pansy replied. "I don't want to be a... a Death Eater, I don't want to leave Millicent."

"Did you tell her this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what she feels. She hasn't told me what she wants to do about our relationship, or how she feels about her possible alliance with... Him."

"Sounds like you need to talk before you ruin what you have," Harry commented.

"What about you?" Pansy asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "We don't have what you have. When school's over, we're over."

"Really?" Pansy asked. "Are you sure?"

"I... yes." Harry knew he didn't sound in the least bit convincing.

Pansy nodded. "Okay." She rose to her feet. "I hope one of us can wake up and face the truth soon."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry felt like crying.

0000

Harry was struggling to understand the difference between an illusion and a mirage... it was late and he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone read the damned book... when someone sat down next to him. He looked up and found Malfoy sitting gracefully, yet casually, ina chair. Harry quickly scanend the room and saw nobody else was there anymore, and Madam Pince was in her office, trusting Harry not to do anything "juvenile." And he felt a twinge of what very well might have been disappointment when he realized that the only reason Malfoy had dared to sit next to him was because no one was there to witness such a marvel. "What do you want?" Not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn't start another fight between them, he kept his mouth shut and waited for Malfoy to tell him what was on his mind.

"Fighting with you means I don't get to have sex," Malfoy said, getting to the point, "so I decided we should just drop whatever the hell you freaked out about this afternoon."

"Whatever the hell I freaked out about?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Well, you did freak out for no apparent reason." Malfoy shrugged.

That comment annoyed Harry. It annoyed him because it was the truth. "What?"

"Oh, never mind. I overreacted, too."Malfoy paused for a moment, then waved his hands. "Look, could we just have sex already? Being angry with you all day has driven me completely out of my mind."

No. Bastard. "Sure. Let's go." Hm, his mouth and his brain just weren't quite connecting today. He followed Malfoy out of the library and into another one of the numerous supply closets in Hogwarts and promptly began to remove his clothes while Malfoy did the same. Okay, so when it came to sex, Malfoy had Harry on a tight leash. And he probably knew it, too, the asshole.

0000

Malfoy had left the closet, leaving Harry brooding on the floor. The sex had, inevitably, been hard, hot, and utterly mind-blowing. Just like it always was. But part of Harry was still empty, unsatisfied. And it pissed him off to no end. Damnit, Malfoy. "Son of a bitch," Harry muttered, glaring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. It wasn't really Malfoy's fault. He hadn't purposefully screwed with his mind and made him miserable. He hadn't made him hate the kind of person he was becoming. But still, every time he agreed to have what he and Malfoy had dubbed "meaningless sex," he felt he lost a part of himself. It was like he was succumbing to something that made him feel powerless and... dirty. But that was ridiculous, right? Of course.

0000

Okay, out of all the chapters I've written so far, I think this one was my least favorite. The funny thing is, when I write a story, my fingers pretty much do all the work. I mean, I don't even think about what I'm writing. It's like I get possessed or something; the story's already there, it's just using me to get itself written. Scary. So when I read through this chapter after it was all done, I almost punched the monitor. Ugh. Harry's so frustrating! The next chapter's in Draco's perspective. Finally. I've been waiting to see more of Draco's mind, and now here it comes (once again with the story taking me where it wants to go thing)! Oh, I have a few sidenotes. First of all, I'll be posting the eighth chapter of Running To Stand Still as soon as this story's over. Second of all, I got a few complaints for taking a story I'd previously posted (Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality) off the site, but I only removed it so I could rewrite it so the chapters are longer and there's more quality. I'll be reposting that as soon as Running To Stand Still is finished. And as soon as Hogwarts: An Alternate Reality is over, I've got an idea for an Oliver/Harry fanfic... yeah, I know, I write a lot of slash fiction. I think that's only because there's more possibility to a slash fic (it's not likely to happen, so you can take it anywhere you want it to go). Does that make any sense? Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know I have more fics in the making, so I won't stop posting stories any time soon. Merry Christmas! Hope you get every single thing you want!