X

XIX

XIXIX "Overactive Hormones" XIXIX

Crabbe and Goyle currently seemed far more attractive than could be considered normal, or healthy, on any scale. For that reason alone, Draco had his entire attention focused on his Head of House in the Common Room that night. The seventh year Slytherins were meeting with Snape about the job fair coming this weekend.

Snape held up a hand, gesturing lazily. "Of course, the Slytherin House has a long tradition of exceeding expectations on all tasks put forth by potential employers. Slytherins are expected not only to succeed in meeting requirements, but are expected to surpass the demonstrated abilities of students from other Houses. And it should go without saying that no one is to be caught cheating."

Draco smirked. After so many years of practice, all manner of succeeding were now down to a fine art. No self-respecting seventh year Slytherin would ever be caught cheating. He glanced over to Crabbe and Goyle disdainfully. Of course, those two stupid, sexy brutes probably did need to have Snape remind them not to get caught…

Draco groaned loudly and put his head in his hands.

There was no way that he was attracted to Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't even like them. He had hardly spoken to them since they had outgrown their usefulness as bodyguards. Draco was far too mature nowadays to be getting into the kind of fights that would require physical force to win, so he had dropped the simple-minded love ogres from the ranks of his friendship. They were ignorant, slow-witted, and their mating rituals were as bizarre as they were disgusting. Draco found he could no longer stomach their company.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Snape sternly, "Is there something you wish to say?"

"No sir," said Draco with a forced calm. He sat through the rest of the meeting, pretending to pay close attention, but instead he focused worriedly on the alarming trend of sexual excitation he was experiencing today with people he typically found to be revolting.

It was true that the arousal he was currently feeling towards Crabbe and Goyle was far more subdued than the all-out horniness he had felt toward Potter earlier… or, dare he admit it? McGonagall!!!

Ugh.

But time had passed, and his horniness had subsided. He was definitely doing better after having spent some quality time with his wizard porn. It must have just been one of those days. Teenagers were known to have days like that, days where they just wanted to shag like rabbits with anyone and everyone they could get their hands on. That was all. He was not a sick, twisted individual just because had had wanted to run his hands all over McGonagall's elderly catlike body…

No! Not going there.

What Draco didn't know of course, was that since it was now evening, and since his food had been… altered… during breakfast, the Powder of Love was wearing off.

XIXIX

The next morning, Draco managed not to get a hard-on when he walked in on a grunting Crabbe and Goyle freak-fest in the shower. In fact, he managed to stumble into the nearest toilet stall and vomit. He took that as a good sign that his day-of-horniness was now over. But all the same, he did feel a bit of trepidation at the thought of seeing Potter in the Great Hall at breakfast.

Because Potter always looked so cute at breakfast, with his hair all mussed and his eyes heavy-lidded… Draco didn't know if he could stand another onslaught of hormones caused by Potter, of all people. So he decided to skip the Great Hall, and just pop into the kitchens for a bite to eat before class.

Unfortunately, Potter seemed to have had the same idea, because as Draco climbed out the portrait hole with an egg sandwich and a cup of pumpkin juice, he ran straight into him. Draco lost his balance and fell forward onto the Gryffindor, spilling his food and drink on the floor.

"Oh, sorry!" groaned Potter as he helped Draco up. But then he caught sight of Draco's face and seemed to freeze in horror, holding onto one of his arms as he lifted him.

Draco froze as well, half-way to standing. He stared at Potter uncertainly, waiting for the inevitable lust to overtake him. But it didn't come. Potter was even touching him, and it did nothing for Draco whatsoever. Potter even looked really damn good this morning, but to Draco, he was only the biggest attention-seeking, faux-hero, Golden Boy Prat he always was. And Draco did not want to shag him!

He almost laughed, but then he realized that Potter was still touching him.

"Hey, watch it, scar-head," he snapped, yanking his arm away.

Potter seemed to wake from his reverie and he stared at Draco uncertainly. He looked him up and down and Draco could have sworn Potter had a relieved sort of smile on his face. But the next moment, the smile was gone as he put together the scowl that he reserved for Draco, and Draco alone.

Well, okay, for Draco and Snape.

Then very slowly, as though testing out his voice, Potter said, "Um… sod off… ferret."

Malfoy nodded. That's right. Insults. This was how it was supposed to work.

"Good one, Potty. Stay up all night thinking it up?"

The Gryffindor smirked slowly. "No, but I'm sure that Potty-Potter play on words must have taken you ages to get down. Did you practice it endlessly in front of your vanity mirror?"

Draco slapped his forehead in shock, "Ye Gods, Potter! You actually know what a mirror is? From the look of you, I'd have guessed you simply relied on the Weasel to tell you how to dress—that… poor… bastard."

Potter narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of bastards, Malfoy, you'll never guess who I ran into a second ago." Harry held up his finger like he was thinking, and then slowly lowered it until he was pointing at Draco with a look of surprised recognition.

"You ought to be more careful," said Draco warningly. "One of these days you're going to catch me in a bad mood."

"I'm shaking," Harry deadpanned. "Really."

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, sizing each other up. Draco was waiting, just to make sure Potter didn't get him all hot and bothered… but no, he was fine. He and Potter continued to stare at each other in silence, until they reached some sort of unspoken agreement. Everything was normal between them. They smiled and nodded at each other, glad they had an understanding.

Then Draco turned abruptly and walked off, leaving his breakfast on the floor in the hallway.

XIXIX

Harry stared after Malfoy as he walked down the hall. 'Well, that was almost bizarre,' he thought. He had come down here to avoid seeing Malfoy (and as disgusting as it was to think about—Snape!) at breakfast, fearing that he would wind up as aroused as he had been the day before when he saw them.

But then when he saw Malfoy, he hadn't felt anything at all like he had the previous day, and Malfoy was even looking especially good this morning. They started trading insults like nothing had happened. But then there had been that moment between them, where they just stared at each other. For a brief second, Harry had half-expected the Slytherin to kiss him or something, but nothing happened. He just left. Just like it was supposed to be. Everything was fine.

But something had happened yesterday to get Harry all weird over Malfoy and Snape. And that was certainly not normal. Harry sighed deeply, figuring his frustration over Luna must be coming to some sort of head for him to get so horny over people he didn't even like.

He was just going to have to tell her about his feelings soon; that was all.

All the same, Harry was elated after his brief altercation with Malfoy. He wasn't attracted to the prat after all. He grabbed some fruit for breakfast and practically skipped to his morning classes, which were as dull and un-arousing as ever. Harry was so pleased that that was all over with.

XIXIX

Ginny slipped into the seat next to him at lunch, and leaned very close, very often, to whisper to Harry that she thought it was time that he talk to Luna about his feeling for her. What Harry didn't know was that she was slipping a little extra powder into his food right now, in order to make up for his missed dose this morning.

The twins had told her that one pinch, once a day, would be plenty, but Ginny was worried that as shy as Harry was, and as gay as Luna was, they may need just a little more than was typically called for.

And across the hall, Blaise was very put out that a) more than 24 hours had passed since he first slipped Draco the love potion, and still he had not shagged his gorgeous blond friend, and b) Draco had had the nerve to skip breakfast without telling him first. So, while Draco gobbled down his lunch in a slightly ravenous manner thanks to no breakfast, Blaise slipped him perhaps a little more of the Powder of Love than was strictly necessary, according to the twins.

XIXIX

Harry and Ron waited until the last possible moment to head to class in the North Tower. They both hated Divination, but had somehow made it to NEWT level classes, so they couldn't justify dropping it. Harry wished that Firenze had stayed on as professor, but shortly after Dumbledore returned, Firenze had gone back into the Forbidden Forest, and Trelawney had gone back to predicting Harry's death twice a week, like clockwork.

Sometimes, Harry really thought he hated the woman.

They were working on myomancy right now, which is divination from the movements of mice. Trelawney had set up three huge metal bins of mice and the class had divided themselves into groups. Harry, Ron, Lavender, and Parvati leaned over the side of one of the bins and watched as the mice scurried about.

"Now class," sang Trelawney in her misty voice, "Watch for any pattern of movement, and consult your text as to its meaning."

Harry glanced up and rolled his eyes as he saw the annoying professor slide seductively toward him, her big, bug-eyed glasses blinking with feverish eroticism, peering into his soul and giving him an aching hard-on.

Oh shit.

Harry's face turned beet-red. He pressed himself against the large metal bin, praying that no one notice how uncomfortable he was, especially not in a class of seventh years who fancied themselves Seers. Harry gaped frantically at the mice… focus on the mice!

But then Trelawney was standing behind him, next to him, touching him. She laid her hand gently on his shoulder as she peered over the edge of the bin. She looked up at Harry with her huge sad eyes, and patted his shoulder sympathetically. It was the single most arousing touch Harry had ever experienced. He wanted to fling those glasses aside and see what sexual wisdom was hiding in those eyes. He wanted to peel off the layers and layers of sweaters and draping fabrics that hung off Trelawney's frame, covering whatever female form was underneath.

Focus on the mice… focus on the mice…

"Harry," she whispered, her breath ghosting against his face. "I'm afraid you're going to have a terrible weekend at the job fair."

Her fingers were still on his shoulder. Her face was so near. He could just turn and their lips would be touching. He pressed himself harder up against the bin, willing his arousal to subside. This was not normal. This was not good.

Focus on the mice… focus on the mice…

Beside him, Ron laughed and pointed. "Is Harry going to join some sort of shagging competition during the job fair?" he asked. Lavender and Parvati shot him dirty looks. Harry and Trelawney both followed Ron's finger down to the mice below, four of whom were having a miniature orgy.

'This is Hell,' thought Harry.

Trelawney huffed and kicked the side of the bin. The metal echoed with a bang, sending the mice running anew. Harry lowered his head.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said. "May I be excused?"

XIXIX

Draco had had a good morning, free from all horniness, and had no reason to be suspicious that any of that would change, especially since he was heading to a Slytherin-Hufflepuff class, Double Care of Magical Creatures. It wasn't so much that he hated the Hufflepuffs, it was just that they were such a worthless lot.

Slytherin was obviously Draco's favored House, because they were so cunning and devious and ambitions and crafty. They made life interesting, and yet somehow always managed to get what they wanted. After that, Draco preferred the Ravenclaws. They were intelligent, quick-witted, serious and studious. They enjoyed a job well done, and Draco could respect that. And then, even the Gryffindors, as obnoxious as they tended to be, had bravery to their very short list of merits. They didn't fear a challenge, so even though Draco tended not to get along with them, he did have some bit of respect for them.

But Hufflepuffs? They had no redeeming qualities. They were happy-go-lucky oafs, below Draco's contempt. There wasn't a word to describe how he felt toward them. They weren't even worth him feeling anything. Draco just ignored them for the most part.

So as the class gathered outside of Hagrid's sub-standard dwelling, Draco was surprised to notice how attractive the Hufflepuffs actually are. He didn't exactly feel aroused as he looked around at the students—he just felt sort of attracted.

He turned to Blaise and almost mentioned his bizarre feeling, but then he saw that look again on Blaise's face, like he was ready to put the moves on Draco. Draco narrowed his eyes and snapped, "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Blaise stepped back and the seductive expression was gone. It was just Blaise. It occurred to Draco then that he might really just be imagining it. He could even have imagined it several times in the past two days, especially considering the past two days that Draco had had.

Blaise looked genuinely hurt, and Draco felt a little guilty.

"I—I shouldn't have snapped," he said.

Blaise frowned and looked away, but he stepped toward Draco again, which Draco took as a sign that he was forgiven. He followed Blaise's gaze to the oversized shanty that Hagrid called a home, just in time to see the enormous man step out swinging a huge staff that looked more like a log.

"I got summat real special fer yeh terday," he said in his husky voice, and Draco smiled before he realized it. "Go git some walkin' sticks from that pile over yonder," he said, pointing with his log. "We're goin' up hikin' inter the mountains."

Draco followed the rest of the class to the pile of broken up branches lying near Hagrid's run-down hut and chose his staff carefully. He felt the weight of it in his hands, and gripped it hard. His fingers didn't close all the way around the staff, and he looked up to Hagrid, wondering if his fingers would close all the way around the half-giant's…

Whoa gods!

Draco yelped at the thought, dropping his walking staff and jumping away from it as though it had bitten him. Blaise stepped forward and put his hand on Draco's shoulder, and Draco found himself glad for his friend's unusual touchy-feely-ness. It gave him a distraction from that utterly, totally, completely, and in all other ways icky thought that had just raced through his mind.

"Summat the matter, Malfoy?" called out Hagrid from across the way.

"Fine!" croaked Draco without looking up. He couldn't look up. He didn't ever want to have that mental image again.

"Draco, are you okay?" asked Blaise in a low tone. He slid his hand down from Draco's shoulder until he was holding his hand. Draco squeezed it, focusing on his friend's fingers in his. That was a safe thought. Blaise's fingers were something he could think about.

"Yeah, I'm fine," whispered Draco. "Let's just uh…" he cleared his throat. "Let's stay to the back of the group today, okay? I don't want to look at that monster if I can help it."

Blaise grinned his brilliant, cock-sure grin that he had and nodded understandingly.

XIXIX

Draco was leaning across the table miserably in the Great Hall at dinner that night. He had had a terrible afternoon. He couldn't trust himself anywhere. He had been attracted to Hufflepuffs, fantasizing about Hagrid's size, had sincerely thought about shagging McGonagall when he passed her in the hallway, and to top it all off, Blaise continued to be grabby despite Draco's half-hearted protests.

Draco was pretty sure he wasn't imagining it now. Blaise was definitely macking on him, even though they were just friends. And it would really, really be pissing Draco off right now if it weren't for the fact that the most unlikely people were causing him some mad-crazy arousal. Potter was even seeming less bad by comparison to some of the people he had considered shagging today. At least he was good-looking.

Blaise's hand was on Draco's back but Draco couldn't be bothered to shrug it off. Life was hell. He couldn't wait until he was no longer a teenager, no longer a slave to raging hormones. Maybe he should shag somebody. It had been awhile. Maybe that was why he was so horny lately. Maybe he was just due.

Blaise's fingers trailed down his spine and Draco shuddered. Blaise seemed willing… but no. They were friends. Friends don't shag. It makes things complicated. But who?

The problem was that so few people lived up to Draco's standards. That was why he hadn't dated in awhile. There really just weren't too many people that deserved him. Everyone had their flaws, their ineptitudes, their annoying habits, their issues. Even Abram Sevenson, a really devious, intelligent Ravenclaw, and absolute the hottest guy at Hogwarts, had his problem.

He was straight.

Like—completely straight. He was as straight as Luna Lovegood was gay. And sexual extremes like that just can't be healthy.

Draco looked up and glanced quickly around the Great Hall. There had to be someone he could sleep with… well, someone he would sleep with. But Draco's eyes landed on Potter and his groin throbbed passionately. Draco put his head back on the table, where it should have been all along.

'This is Hell,' he thought, but a moment later, he discovered that things could still get worse.

A quiet settled over the Great Hall and Draco realized with a rush of annoyance that that fool of a wizard, Dumbledore, was gabbing on about what an exciting weekend the seventh years had in store with the job fair. Dumbledore's speeches were always the most inane drivel. Draco raised his head with his rising condescension.

But as soon as he saw that doddering old idiot, Draco's jaw dropped in horror. Everything he knew to be holy and sacred shattered as one persistent image forced its way into Draco's head—himself on his knees under the staff table.

And—quite frankly—between Dumbledore and Hagrid, Draco really didn't know which was worse. But the fact that BOTH had crossed his mind today, well, more than crossed his mind today, was more than he could take.

"Kill me," he groaned.

Blaise leaned down. "What was that, Draco?" he asked kindly. But Draco had had enough. He didn't care if the headmaster was speaking. He didn't care if he made a scene in the Great Hall. All he cared about was getting the hell out of that room right away. He pushed his way up from the table and stormed out.

He didn't slow down until he was in the dungeons, barricaded into his dorm room. He carefully and painstakingly raised wards that were spelled not to let anyone else in until he was firmly asleep, and which then hexed everyone into silence as they entered. He put extra guards around his four-poster so that no one could touch it except for him. He was going to be alone until he was asleep, and even then he was not going to be bothered.

Unfortunately, both for Draco and his roommates, he did not drift to sleep until well past four AM.

XIXIX

Close to the end of dinner, Dumbledore got up to speak. Snape was sitting just to his right and Harry fought to focus on Dumbledore's spirited talk about the job fair. Snape was scowling sexily at the headmaster's every word, which was highly distracting to Harry for some disgustingly inappropriate reason. But then Draco Malfoy jumped up suddenly and stomped out of the Great Hall. Harry checked out his arse on the way out, and made up his mind that he was absolutely, positively, and without fail this time, going to confess his feelings to Luna, tonight.

He just couldn't deal with this horniness any longer.

So as soon as everyone else got up to leave, Harry pushed his way through to the Ravenclaw table and asked Luna to meet him out by the lake tonight. She agreed with a vague smile, and Harry's heart decided to find out what it was like in the vicinity of Harry's throat.

One hour, three changes of clothing, and fifteen failed attempts to tame his hair later, Harry skipped down to the lake where he plopped down into the grass to wait for Luna. She emerged from the castle a few minutes later and wandered down toward the lake, looking about herself distractedly so that Harry felt compelled to warn her before she walked straight into the water.

"Oh, right… thanks," she said dreamily.

"Er, um, don't mention it," blushed Harry, who was actually pleased for once that he saved the day. He even found that he wouldn't mind so much if Luna fell into his arms, proclaiming her undying love to him now that he had saved her from drowning… Harry shook his head. That wasn't like the Luna he had fallen in love with. Luna would never do something so foolish.

"I think I'm going to interview the Giant Squid for my first article for the Quibbler," she said dazedly. "I haven't asked him yet, but I think he'll agree."

"You haven't asked your dad?" clarified Harry uncertainly.

"The Squid," replied Luna simply. "But he always seemed nice."

"Er… sure. Why wouldn't he… um… grant you… an interview…" Harry trailed off, scratching his head. Could Luna really communicate with the Giant Squid?

"You think he will?" she asked, her huge eyes hopeful.

"Of course," grinned Harry. "Anything for you."

"I'll ask him right now," she proclaimed, and turned back to the lake.

"Luna, wait!" started Harry, but it was too late. Luna had already dived into the lake and was swimming out into the darkness. Pretty soon, Harry could see her no longer. He kicked at the dirt in anger and frustration. This was never going to work. Every time he got anywhere near telling Luna how he felt, some bizarre thing would happen before he was able to get the words out.

He flung himself on the ground and waited. It was nearly three hours before Luna emerged again from the lake, shivering and happy.

"I got the interview!" she squealed.

Harry conjured a blanket and wrapped it around her small, trembling form. "You're going to catch your death of cold. Come on, let's get you in."

Luna looked up at him with wonder. "Why would I want to catch Death?" she asked uncertainly.

"Erm…" began Harry, "It's just an expression."

Luna rolled her huge, happy eyes. "Weird expression… anyway…" She smiled in satisfaction. "I've got to get back to my dorm room and transfer these notes." She held up her arms. The wet sleeves of her robes were rolled up nearly to her shoulders and all up and down the pale skin of her arms there were words written in waterproof ink.

"Yeah, okay," said Harry quietly. "I'll see you then." He looked away.

"Okay! Bye, Harry!"

Luna took off running, wrapped up in the blanket Harry had conjured—a cozy fleece number swirling with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw colors. Harry had been practicing that one for a theoretical time in the future when he and Luna would have a picnic, and then bask in the warm afternoon sun together, happy and in love, lying on the perfect blanket for both of them.

"Bugger it all to hell," grumbled Harry as he made his way in.

But it he didn't make it very far. Still on the first flight of stairs that would lead him to Gryffindor Tower, Harry heard a sound that made his heart stop, even after all these years—the pathetic yet terrifying mewling of Mrs. Norris. Harry had once again been caught out after curfew.

It didn't even take three seconds for Filch to appear, "What is it, love?" he asked the cat indulgently. "What have you found?"

Harry stood there, his eyes shut and his face screwed up in anticipation of punishment. Sure, he had saved the wizarding world, but what the hell did that matter if he was still caught after curfew? What the hell did that matter if he still couldn't bring himself to tell Luna how he felt? What the hell did that matter if he wanted to throw that prick Malfoy down and shag him?

"Ah… what have we here?" asked Filch nastily.

Harry opened his eyes to look at the loathsome man disdainfully. He opened his mouth to say, "Let's just get this over with… how many detentions?" But instead, the words caught in his throat as he beheld the sex god before him, with his bleach-stained sex god clothes, and his long sex god broom, and his sinister sex god eyes, and his ratty sex god cat.

Instead, the wide-eyed and horrified Harry said, "Oh, fuck me."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" roared Filch.

Harry grabbed his head in both hands and continued to swear. This was just about the worst thing that could possibly happen.

No, no—wait! It could be even worse if Snape rounded the corner right now as he was wont to do anytime Harry found himself in trouble. That would definitely make things far, far worse than this.

Harry felt the color drain from his face, because as soon as he thought that, he heard footsteps coming up down the hall. He slumped against the wall, preparing himself for the hell that was about to ensue. If Snape and Filch were to double up on him right now in the state he was in… (Harry's mind was met with a very graphic image at that thought) To yell at me! To yell at me! his thoughts scrambled.

Harry promised himself as the footsteps neared that if he got out of this alive, he would kill himself.

"Good evening, Mr. Filch, what's going on?"

Harry startled at the cheerful voice. It wasn't Snape after all. It was Colin Creevey.

"Oh, all right, Harry?" he said nervously, taking in the sight of Harry Potter slumped against the wall with his eyes shut tight. Harry groaned and opened his eyes, to be immediately blinded by a bright flash of light. 'Damn you, Colin,' he thought to himself as blue flashes covered his entire field of vision. He staggered forward a step or two, half intent on strangling that pesky sixth-year that was always following him around, always taking pictures of him…

"I've been looking all over for you," he said cheerfully. "Um, McGonagall decided at the last minute to meet in the Common Room after all, so you wouldn't have to be out after curfew. She asked one of the prefects to go find you, so I volunteered."

…always saving his butt from tons of detentions.

Colin grabbed his arm helpfully and tugged him toward Gryffindor Tower. "Come on, Harry, we'd better hurry." He glanced over his shoulder at Filch with a very meaningful look and continued, "You know how pissed she'll be at anyone who keeps her waiting."

Filch snapped his mouth shut tight, unwilling to keep Harry there if it meant dealing with McGonagall later. He turned on his heel and stormed off down the hall, Mrs. Norris hurrying after him.

Colin walked along, still holding Harry's arm. Harry stumbled behind him up two flights of stairs before pulling his arm free. They were on a landing with a large window seat that looked out over the Quidditch pitch. Harry needed to pull his thoughts together, and more importantly, clear his eyes from the flashing lights—the visual memory of Colin's flashbulb.

Harry leaned back onto the window seat and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Colin looked around, and then awkwardly (although he was trying to appear casual) sat down next to Harry.

Quite close to Harry, actually.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Colin tentatively spoke. "There's not actually a meeting with McGonagall, you know," he said, as though maybe Harry hadn't gotten that point.

Harry shook his head, still rubbing his eyes. "I know, Colin. Thanks for making that up, though." It wouldn't be very polite for him to brush him off like he normally did, not after Colin had saved him from Hogwart's janitor/sex god.

Harry groaned again and leaned forward. What the hell was the matter with him?

Colin touched his shoulder. "Are you okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Harry turned to him to smile his reassuring smile with which he could placate anyone but the closest of his friends, and he found himself nearly nose to nose with Colin. Colin's eyes sparkled hopefully. Harry felt his stomach turn over.

It wasn't that Colin was an unattractive guy. It was just that in Harry's mind, he hadn't changed much since when Harry had first met him in his second year. Harry looked at him and saw the same annoying eleven-year-old who had chased after him for an autograph.

And Colin had just never stopped chasing after Harry for his autograph.

And that was really bloody annoying.

But now Harry found himself drawn to that puppy-dog loyalty and that boyish charm. And before he could even stop and think about what he was doing, he was snogging Colin Creevey. Harry was snogging Colin Creevey. He was pressing his lips into the smaller boy's and he was pulling him closer.

But some little bit of sanity remained in his head and the annoyance he felt for Colin overcame his sudden attraction to him. Harry pushed him away and stood up hurriedly. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair, desperate to get a grip on himself.

Colin sat on the window seat, wide eyed, as though all his dreams had come true. He looked up to Harry and stammered, "Uh, that is… ahem… Harrywillyoubemyboyfriend?!"

Harry turned back to him, appalled, and thought fast. "I can't. I'm seeing someone." Colin looked crestfallen. Harry needed an excuse to have just kissed him. "I, er, we took an aphrodisiac tonight and it hasn't worn off all the way. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just meant to say thank you."

Colin's shoulders slumped and he nodded, his chin nearly resting on his chest. "Oh sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of you…" he murmured.

"What?! Colin, no, it was my fault!" said Harry quickly, standing on the opposite side of the landing. He wanted to pull Colin into his arms and make him forget all his worries. He wanted more snogging.

"Wait a minute," said Colin slowly, looking up. "Who are you seeing?"

"What?"

"Who are you seeing? Everyone knows you have a thing for Luna, but I know," he stressed, much to Harry's annoyance, "That you're not seeing her."

'Oh shit,' thought Harry.

"Um, I can't tell you," he said, feeling like that was just about one of the lamest things he had ever said. One would think he was talking to Luna, what with his sudden inability to say anything worthwhile.

"Why not?" asked Colin, his arms crossed. "I mean, after what just happened, I figure I have a right to know."

"Uh…" Harry fell back against the wall hopelessly. "I can't, Colin. We're keeping it a secret."

"Guy or girl?"

"What?"

"Is it a guy or a girl?" he demanded.

Malfoy's sexy sneer flashed in Harry's mind, and he said automatically, "Guy."

Colin smiled with relief. "Well, let me know if anything happens between you two, eh, Harry?" he said suggestively.

Harry's eyes widened and he took off up the stairs at a run.

Behind him on the landing, Colin vowed to find out who this mystery lover was, and see if he couldn't do anything to break them up. Normally he wouldn't involve himself in such plots, but he'd had a thing for Harry for years. And perhaps even more importantly, he now knew what an incredible kisser Harry was. And you just don't let those sorts of things go.

XIXIX

XIX

X

A/N: Okay, then. I think we have officially reached a bizarre love pentagon. And I suspect it will just keep growing. And poor Draco… he really does hate an ungodly amount of people, doesn't he?

Huh? What was that? Why aren't they expecting magic at play, since, you know, they're at a school for witchcraft and wizardry? Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and find out, huh?

Anyway, I do NOT promise that I will finish this fic. But the recent addition of the upcoming job fair, as well as Colin's vow, has bought this story another chapter or two at least. Other ideas to keep this fic going are welcome. Write me or throw them into your reviews.

Oh, and I DO promise that very soon we will get some action that does not involve Colin or the love ogres in any way.