Author's Note-
This chapter is rating Hard-R for sexual situations and language. Please heed your region's laws regarding age and ratings. The author of this fanfic, as well as Rowling, Scholastic, WB, and any other entity owning the Harry Potter trademark are not responsible for minors reading adult material they shouldn't be.

9.
The first thing I notice after Colin pulls me into his darkroom is the eerie, pale blue light filling the room, washing the colour from everything. The next thing grabbing my attention is the putrid smell of vinegar that attacks my nostrils, making me want to gag. There's a faint hint of citrus, as if Colin has tried to mask the smell with something far too sweet. However, the assault on my senses is quickly replaced by something more pleasant, namely Colin pouncing on me, throwing his arms around my neck, and delivering sloppy, frantic kisses. He catches me off-guard and his weight sends me falling back into one of the shelves along the wall. Colin doesn't seem to care that the vials wobble precariously, some tipping over completely and pouring their contents on the floor.

He runs his fingers through my hair as his tongue darts in my mouth, forcing my lips apart. I've little opportunity to protest; crikey, I can barely catch my breath! It's not unpleasant, mind you. Far from it! It was just a little... much. I lose my bearings when he whimpers in my mouth and my breath hitches when his cold hands snake up my shirt, fingers deftly pinching my nipples. I vaguely remember being upset about something. Surely not, though – how could I be angry with someone who can do that with his tongue?

Finally, I manage to pull myself away, holding Colin at bay by his shoulders. I'm practically panting like I just ran twenty laps around the Quidditch pitch. Even still, his hands are all over me, groping at my bits and pieces. He chews his bottom lip, leering at me in that special way that could very well be some new Imperio curse that he's perfected – I can barely resist it.

"Whoa, Colin! Let me catch my breath, please."

"I've been thinking about you all day," he says, his normally large saucer-like eyes narrowed. His hands have moved down to the belt of my trousers, a smile wide on his face.

"Wait... wh-what...?" I know if we don't slow down, things will quickly escalate into something I'm not quite ready for, just yet. I grab his hands, holding them firmly in place, away from my crotch. Colin almost looks... wounded.

"What's wrong, Harry?" he asks, surprisingly innocent considering his mister-grabby-hands act.

"Nothing. I just... I'm..."

You cannot imagine how mortifyingthis is. We're both fourteen and, although I can't help but still see him as a scampering first-year, Colin seems so... experienced? Is that possible? Am I that behind everyone else? It's times like these that being marked by a psychopath bent on killing me is truly a spanner in the works. Colin shouldn't have been my first kiss, should he? Shouldn't I have shagged by now?

As if he can see the virginity seeping from every pore on my face, Colin stops squirming, his eyes widen with realization. "Oh, Merlin, Harry – I'm so sorry. I ... I didn't know..."

Oh, great. Now he feels sorry for me. I drop his hands and straighten up, not wanting to meet his gaze. Even though I would like nothing more than to leave, I take the moment to survey our surroundings. Photographs of varied sizes hang from a line that travels the length of the darkroom, held in place with large, old-fashioned clothespins and suspended over two large, floor-standing basins. I manage to walk around Colin and peer into the basin, where other photographs soak in the foul-smelling liquid. Images on the immersed photos fade-in to view, revealing more detail: shots of his brother, Dennis, and his friends; of Fleur and some of her fellow Beauxbatons when they were unaware; of Viktor flying high over the Quidditch pitch. That's when I realize I haven't flown since this past summer at The Burrow, something I desperately need to remedy.

Colin sidles up beside me, reaching for one of the hanging photographs.

"Here's the one we took this morning," he says, holding it in front of me.

I watch the photograph of Colin sitting on my lap, placing his hands on the side of my face and drawing closer. It sends chills down my spine, remembering how his gaze made me feel. Although I remember it lasting seemingly forever, after a couple of seconds, the image of me and Colin pull back, only to repeat itself in a never-ending loop. Even my flattened, two-dimensional image is coloured with edginess, peppering the arousal that I feel with embarrassment. 'Brilliant, Potter!' I think, 'Now my stupidity is captured for everyone to see – forever.' How can I be such a twat? How can Colin even like me? My desire to scarper off grows exponentially.

"I love that photo," Colin whispers, leaning into me as he speaks. I welcome how close he is.

"Yeah," I say, too nervous to tear my eyes from the picture.

After a moment of silence, Colin re-hangs the Wizard's Photo of us. "I don't mind, you know," he says. He turns his back on the pendent pictures and leans against the table holding the basins.

"What are you on about?" I ask with a tinge of discomfort, hoping he doesn't pick up on it.

"That you're a virgin." His matter-of-factness is both discerning and disarming. I like that I don't have to put on an act, but I don't want to seem... weak, undesirable.

"It's right bit cute, actually."

"Oh, wonderful," I say, petulantly. "That's exactly what I wanted to be... 'cute'."

"Don't be that way, Harry." He rolls his eyes, pushing himself from the table. "You know what I meant."

"Why's the light in here pale blue?" I ask, feigning interest in something I know he'll get easily distracted with. "I thought dark room lights had to be red or summat?" I remember seeing a show on the telly that involved a photographer. His dark room was always lit red.

Colin walks up to my side, and I feel his hand on the small of my back tracing small circles. The front of my trousers becomes rather uncomfortably tight.

"Muggle photos require the red light," he explains. "But Wizard Photos need the blue light. It's also why they are black-and-white. I'd like to find a way to make coloured ones, but..."

"You're pants at Potions?" I ask, finishing his sentence.

Nodding, he smiles and repeats, "I'm pants at Potions. Snape hates me." When he rests his head on my shoulder, I'm taking aback by how comfortable it seems, this physical closeness.

"Snape hates everyone, or, at least, every Gryffindor. Tell me how you did this," I say, pointing at another photo, this one of Viktor Krum pulling a Wronski Feint on the Quidditch pitch (he likes to practice flying when his classes are finished).

"You didn't really come here for me to show you how to make Muggle photos, didja, Harry?" Colin asks, silkily. "Because that's not why I asked you to come."

"Oh?" I try to be nonchalant with my response, but the crack in my voice – now almost an octave higher than normal – gives off a much different emotion. "Why did you ask me to come, then?"

He grabs my shoulders and gently turns me to face him. "To show you something…"

Colin presses me gently against the wall, his lips on mine. My heart rate quickens; I have a strange feeling where this is leading. His hands move to hold the sides of my face. Colin tilts my head to the side enough to give him better access to my collarbone, where he gently licks before gently sucking on the skin. His tongue traces up my neck, then along my jaw line, delivering a kiss on my chin before continuing on the other side. He begins to breathe deeply, exhaling in my ear. My knees buckle when I feel his hardness push into mine, throbbing and flexing under his trousers. Colin's hands make their way to the collar of my white, Oxford shirt. He loosens my tie and begins slowly unbuttoning my shirt.

"Colin, I…"

"Shhh," he admonishes, softly. "I know you've never… Don't think less of me because I have, yeah?"

"I… What? No, never."

My words are mere pants of breath. I don't want him to stop, even though I'm nervous. What if I'm bad? What if I make a mistake? What if I … smell? He pulls my shirt out of my trousers, allowing his hands to trail up my sides and chest. His hands are cold; he can feel the goose bumps on my skin. Despite all this, he never drops eye contact.

Colin bits his bottom lip. "I've wanted to do this for a long time, Harry. Do you mind if I…?"

Honestly, at this point, I'd probably do anything, or let him do anything to me. His hands travel down to my belt buckle as he rests his head on my shoulder. When he squats down in front of me, all I can think about is whether or not I've taken a shower today and how long ago it was and whether or not I've been sweating a lot. I close my eyes and hiss through gritted teeth, wincing as I feel a cold hand wrap around my cock. He begins to stroke me; long, slow strokes that make me feel far better than when I'm tossing myself off.

I gasp when I feel something moist and hot wrap itself around the tip of my cock, tugging gently on my foreskin. Colin's tongue laps at my piss slit and I shudder. My hips begin to move even though my hands still rest at my side, clenching and unclenching, repeatedly. A moan escapes me when he takes my entire length, his throat muscles tightening as my dick tickles his gag reflexes. Cold hands squeeze my arse as he pulls me deeper, getting used to my girth.

There's nothing I can compare this with, no other experience I've had up until this point in my life that even comes close to what I'm feeling as he swirls his tongue around the head. When he grips the base of my cock and starts pumping in a rhythm that matches the bobbing of his head, my eyes roll into the back of my skull My mouth has been open – voiceless – since his warm mouth first wrapped around me with only little grunts and whimpers escaping. Colin takes my hands and rests them on the sides of his head as he continues sucking me off. I grab a handful of hair, careful not to push my hips too far into him, despite the fact that I want – I need – to be as deep in him as possible.

Colin pulls back, letting my dick slide out; I instantly miss the warmth. He continues to stroke me, though, twisting on the up-stroke. He laps at my balls and makes circular movements with his tongue before taking one of my sacs in his mouth. He pumps his fist faster, harder.

"Colin…"

He understands my breathy warning. I start to tense, feeling the familiar stiffness ebb from the pit of my stomach down to my legs; my toes curl under. Tightening my grip on Colin's hair, my knees start to buckle again as he once again takes my full length into his mouth. I arch into him and come down his throat. I jerk and shudder, but he never lets me pull out. He stops stroking but continues to suck me off, even when some semen dribbles down his chin.

I can't seem to open my eyes or wipe what's sure to be a silly grin off my face. I feel Colin pulling my smalls and trousers up, tucking my sensitive cock in my underwear and fastening the buckle of my belt. When I open my eyes, he's wiping cum from his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He smiles angelically at me as he draws me closer.

We kiss and I can taste the combination of musk and a slightly pungent tang that reminds me of Laundry Day at the Dursley's. It's not wholly unpleasant, just… different.

"That… that was amazing," I manage to say as we embrace.

He blushes, and it's one of the most glorious sights I've ever witnessed. "I love it when you say my name," he whispers, as if he's expecting me to laugh at him.

We stay in place, holding each other, and I still can't wipe the smile from my face. My first blowjob. My first blowjob and it was brilliant! My eyes travel the length of the table, admiring the basin with the artistic works within them. I take small pride in the fact that these wonderful pictures, still floating in the water, came from the same boy who can make me so happy.

From the corner of my eye, I see something reflect the blue light of the lamp back at me. I pull away, reaching for the side of the sink. In a bunched napkin lays three pieces of candy with a familiar metallic-gold wrapping full of detail and changing colour even as I reach for them.

'Mother knows the makers of La Maison du Chocolat personally…'

"Oh, Draco! They are absolutely divine! Look at the detail in the wrapping!"

"No two are the same…"

"Where… where did you get the candy?" I ask, trying to steady my voice.

"Oh, uhm… a friend. You know…? No, I think it was one of Dennis' friends. You remember…? Nigel."

I can tell Colin's getting nervous. I spin around to face him and he flinches; the expression on my face must be murderous.

"You're lying to me!"

Colin backs away, his eyes wide. My breathing is deep and laboured. I'm grinding my teeth even as my hands clench into his fists.

"No, Harry… I'm not…"

"You fucking liar!" I bark, shoving Colin into the wall. "You are sleeping with Malfoy, aren't you?"

"I…"

"Aren't you?" I grab his shoulders, giving him one sharp, violent shake. I'm trembling with anger and I can feel myself blacking out as if going into auto-pilot. My grip tightens, my fingers digging hard into his shoulders. "I can't believe you'd sleep with that… that… filth! He hates your lot, you know? 'Filthy Mudbloods'…! That's what he calls your kind!"

'Your kind.' It doesn't escape me how easy it is to separate 'them' from 'me' when I'm this furious. I can tell by how Colin winces that he notices it, too. No wonder he fancied me. I'm just a brown-haired, four-eyed version of Malfoy.

'You'd do well in Slytherin.'

I have to get out of this room, away from Colin, before I do something I know I'll regret. His eyes are pleading, but they just make me angrier. I push him away with more force than was necessary. I reach for the doorknob, wrench the door open, and run out of the darkroom and towards the Gryffindor towers. I can vaguely hear him call after me, apologising, begging to let him explain. But there is no explanation, there is no excuse. He's been buggered by a Malfoy! He's let that racist shite… do things, things that he was willing to let me do! Oh, God! I've let him kiss me with those same fucking lips that have probably sucked off that ruddy ferret! Colin was my boyfriend – Mine! Malfoy had no right to take him! NONE!

So many thoughts swim though my head as I bomb down the stairs, taking two or three at a time. All I want to do is make it to my dormitory and the comfort of my bed and never come out again! I turn the corner only to bump into Cedric Diggory, knocking him to the ground. Of all the times to finally see Cedric where he can't run away or hide behind a mate, this is probably the most unfortunate.

"What the—!" His scowl fades once he looks up and sees me. "Harry? You… you're crying."

Am I? I hadn't noticed. I was so angry and hurt that I hardly had time enough to register that I was crying. Cedric wastes no time jumping to his feet. He reaches out to me as he moves closer, his eyes a soft grey.

"Are you okay?" he asks with a tone that is soothing and warm.

Without realising what I'm doing, I grab Cedric and pull him into a hug, burying my face into his shoulder. He hesitates before wrapping his arms around me. His kisses the top of my head and I begin to cry harder.

"What the fuck is this, then?" I hear from behind me.

Cedric pushes me away, yet keeps his grip firm on my shoulders. I don't even turn to see who it was, I already know.

"Roger!" Cedric calls. "It's … it's not what you think."

The anger in me boils as Cedric and Roger begin shouting at each other. That's when I really become aware: they all have someone. I'm second fiddle to everyone! Colin has Malfoy, Cedric has Roger. What the fuck is the use, then? Who do I have? Oh, yes. I forget – I have Lord Voldemort!

"Get off me!" I snarl, jerking away from Cedric. "You lot disgust me! All of you!"

I don't even wait to see Cedric's reaction. I start running again, running down the corridor to the main stairwell. I can hear Cedric call after me, but it just makes me go faster, fuelling the hurt. Everyone I love leaves me, my parents, Sirius, and now Cedric and Colin! Am I so vile? Am I so unlovable, so disgusting? Am I so easy to spurn? Fine, then! Sod them all! If that's how they wish to be, I'll do my best to give them all something to hate!

Next Chapter Charlie and his Dragons