DISCLAIMER: I SUCK AT HAVING DISCLAIMERS IN THE FIRST CHAPTER, SORRY. NONE OF THIS IS MINE, SADLY. I'M NOT MAKING ANY MONEY OFF THIS, ETC. SERIOUSLY I OWN NOTHING IN THIS LIFE EXCEPT MAYBE LIKE A FEW CDS. AND CERTAINLY NOT THESE CHARACTERS OR PLOTS. THANK YOU.

A/N: I would also like to apologize for anything I may have said in that last author note. I was not in a proper state of mental health or sleep at the time. OK so this is a pretty lame chapter to post after almost 6 weeks' absence, I know. But first holidays happened, then school happened, then exams happened, and now second semester is starting again so I really don't have any work yet, so I figured I finally finish this. I shouldn't make excuses though, sorry this took so god damn long. But after they finally hooked up or whatever they did—make out, I suppose—I wasn't really sure where to go. Because I can't just dive into the darker part of the plot, that would be silly. So this is a Blaise chapter! Yay Blaise. Also it is a Harry-is-stupid-and-it's-fun-to-write-him-making-a-complete-ass-of-himself chapter. Woohoo. Beta'd by the very lovely Courtney (id: deppinthought) and Liz (id: lizterine. She has a really, really good fic on there, Veniam Dare, that got x-posted on Schnoogle. I beta'd it. It's really good, read it. Go Liz!) I'm also sorry that my author notes are so long. Thanks for the reviews and 1000+ hits! And I'm always happy to get more! ...carry on then.

Chapter 5

Harry and Draco didn't speak about that night on the Quidditch pitch afterwards. In fact, for either to speak at all to the other would have been a miracle; to look at each other would have been pushing it. It wasn't so much that they were embarrassed, though that was true enough. It was more that they were afraid of what might happen were they to come in contact.

"Harry? You still with me?"

Harry jumped, startled from a distant realm in which he was quite alone with Draco, and both were quite unclothed. "Her—Hermione—what?"

"You alright there? You looked like you were somewhere else..." said Hermione, looking mildly concerned.

"No, no...I'm fine," said Harry determinedly. "Never been better. What are we doing, then?"

"We're walking, Harry."

"Oh, right. Lunch?"

"Dinner. Are you sure you're feeling well?"

"No. I mean yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just...yes." Deep breaths, Harry, he thought, looking anywhere but at the Slytherin table as they entered the Great Hall.

"Right," said Hermione, obviously deciding not to inquire further.

"Where's Ron got to, then?" asked Harry vaguely, trying to distract himself from the blond head bent over its supper across the Hall.

"Harry, he's right there, he's talking to Seamus."

"Oh. Good for him, then," said Harry, pulling a dish toward him, though not remotely hungry.

Hermione continued to shoot him slightly alarmed, worried glances throughout dinner. Harry couldn't imagine why.

"Say something, Draco, please. Honestly, I've only been talking at you since Potions."

Draco ignored Blaise's irritation, glaring morosely down at his beef stew and thinking longingly of the past several days when the two of them had not been speaking. He imagined he could feel Harry's eyes burning a hole in the top of his head, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Blaise huffed angrily and picked up his fork, but dropped it with a clatter just as quickly.

"Draco, you're hiding something."

"Blaise, what else is there to tell? I've already explained about Ha—Potter and the whole bit with the Dark Lord, and—"

"That's not what I mean and you bloody well know it."

Draco determinedly avoided Blaise's eyes, uncomfortably aware that the other boy had an uncanny knack for seeing right through flimsy façades.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he drawled to his plate.

"Don't try to deny it, I can tell. The two of you in Potions..." he shuddered in disgust.

"I haven't got a clue what you're on about," grumbled Draco stubbornly, though his heart was pounding. Had they been that obvious?

Blaise leaned forward across the table and hissed angrily, "You...you and..and him, Draco!" He jerked his head towards the Gryffindor table.

Draco finally looked up, hands balled into fists under the table. "The two of us what, exactly?" he shot back, privately hoping very much that he wouldn't get an answer.

"Well, you're not exactly subtle," sneered Blaise. "Staring at each other but never making eye contact...blushing when you're near each other—there! You're doing it! I don't believe this."

Draco was indeed a little pink. Furious with himself for showing weakness and with Blaise for bringing the whole sordid affair up in the first place, he took an angry swig of pumpkin juice.

"You stay the hell out of it," he snarled.

He expected Blaise to argue back, to laugh at him, maybe even to hit him. What he did not expect was for Blaise to draw back suddenly and inexplicably, looking stung. There was an extraordinarily awkward pause.

Draco didn't know quite what to say next. He and Blaise had been close since infancy. They rarely fought, and when they did, it was serious. And now it was becoming increasingly clear to Draco what this was about. He flushed deeper still, but leaned quietly across to Blaise and glanced around.

"Blaise...look, I'm...I'm really sorry...I didn't—that is to say, if you had—" Draco faltered and trailed off.

Blaise got up from the table without a word and stalked off toward the entrance hall. Draco saw Harry's slightly concerned gaze follow him. Draco guessed that Harry had come to the same arresting realization that he had, but he wasn't quite sure what Blaise wanted him to do about it.

Draco returned to his stew, frowning. So, Blaise had wanted to be more than close friends. That explained his protectiveness, his desire to help Draco at all costs, his constant concern and worry at Draco's expense. Draco felt an unexpected rush of gratitude toward these well-meaning gestures, and an even more unexpected rush of guilt that he had not fully appreciated them before.

I'm such an arse, he cursed mentally. All this time, and he never said a word. Poor Blaise.

Draco blinked and shook himself out of his very un-Malfoy-ish thoughts. He finished his dinner and trudged off to bed. Thankfully, Blaise was already sleeping, or pretending to be, when Draco came in from the common room.

Sighing at the other boy's closed curtains, Draco climbed into bed, drew his own hangings shut and pulled out bound parchment and quill from under the mattress in the headboard.

(Draco's journal)

So, Blaise...Blaise. Well. Looking back, I really should have known. He was so nice all the time. Nice in an overstepping the boundaries sort of way. Like talking to Dumbledore for my sake. That could only have been out of...I don't even know what. But it wasn't a very Slytherin thing to do.

Well, now I know. The question is, what do I do about it?

I...well, care about Blaise. I really do. And how could I not? We were raised together. We're like brothers.

But as for him...not your average brotherly affection. I can't honestly say I feel the same. And I hate to say that, because I know he would be really sad to hear it, but...well, there's Harry now.

Harry. This whole thing is a mystery. Did I really do...that? Snog Harry Potter? Me? I reckon I did. And it's in the past now...although I would rather like it to be present and future, too. But do I actually love Harry? Is it lust or is it like what Blaise seems to have for me? Because I hate to leave Blaise out in the cold, but I rather liked making out with Harry, loathed as I am to say it. Liked it in a "he's hot, why wouldn't I?" sort of way. But nothing...emotional. Or...no. Of course not.

We'll see, I suppose. Damn.

Draco put down his quill and stowed it in its box beneath the mattress. His mind buzzed with the questions he had just penned. Much as he would have liked to have tried further to answer them, a rather more pressing matter required his immediate attention.

Sighing resignedly, Draco had a good long wank and slipped into a restless sleep.

Several floors and flights of stairs above Draco, Harry lay on his side in bed, panting slightly and wiping his hand on the sheets. He rolled onto his back, away from the damp patch he had made, and stared up at the underside of his canopy, arms spread, unblinking.

He couldn't get Draco out of his thoughts. He had thought some good old-fashioned wanking would do the trick, but apparently he was not to be so lucky. His mind raced back and forth, like a tennis rally. A stupid, horny tennis rally.

Forget about him!

But he's so hot...

It was a one-time thing!

I could learn to like him if I could do that again.

It shouldn't have happened in the first place. He's a Slytherin, you're a Gryffindor. You're Harry Potter, he's Draco Malfoy.

That shouldn't matter.

He's a Horcrux! You have to kill him! Don't make this harder than it needs to be.

But...I...he...

But the retorting side of him couldn't come up with a good response to that one. He let out a frustrated sigh and flipped over onto his stomach, clenching his pillow angrily. It was true. Draco was a Malfoy, a Slytherin and a Horcrux. Harry was everything Draco was not. Draco was everything Harry stood against.

It could never work, said the reasonable side of him plaintively.

"Dammit, but I wish it could," he murmured in a hoarse whisper.

He swallowed, rolled onto his side again and fell asleep to fantasies of himself and Draco that slipped into troubled dreams of Voldemort and torn souls.

The next morning, Harry and Draco each awoke with difficulty, not having slept well at all, dressed sleepily and traipsed down to the Great Hall with their respective parties. They entered at exactly the same time.

"Ouch!" yelped Hermione, as Harry walked into her.

"Sorry, Ron," he muttered vaguely, his eyes glued to Draco. It was the first time they had been in such close proximity since...well, since they had made out on the Quidditch pitch, Harry sheepishly admitted to himself. But now here Draco was, close enough to touch...

Draco looked up, met Harry's gaze for a seemingly eternal second, then flushed and turned angrily away in a flurry of robes, practically jogging off to the Slytherin table. Blaise spared Harry one withering glare and stomped after Draco.

Harry swallowed dryly and strode, more confidently than he felt, into the Hall ahead of Ron and Hermione. He ignored their mutterings about him and wolfed down a bowl of porridge and sprinted off to the library without a backward glance at his friends, his enemies or anybody in between.

Ron and Hermione watched perplexedly as Harry went. Draco glowered around at anybody who dared look at him, snuck a quick, decisive glance at Harry's departing arse and got up to leave without eating. Blaise watched the whole proceeding sulkily, and his eyes followed Draco's retreating back out with a deadly glare.

Out in the Entrance Hall, Draco stared around. He caught sight of a red and gold-striped tie whipping out of sight around the corner of a corridor, and followed at a reluctant jog.

He caught up with Harry four empty classrooms later. The passage was deserted. Before Harry could do or say anything, Draco had seized him roughly by the shoulders and slammed him up against the wall in an angry kiss. Harry, shocked, numbly reciprocated, but within moments it occurred to both what they were doing and where they were doing it, and they broke apart.

Not to be denied, Draco grabbed Harry's tie and pulled him into the nearest vacant classroom, banging the door shut. Harry seemed about to say something, but Draco pressed a finger to Harry's slightly swollen lips and pushed him down on a desk, unbuttoning Harry's shirt as they kissed fiercely again. Harry's hands twined around the back of Draco's neck and into his hair, clutching helplessly as Draco's lips moved hungrily down his neck.

It took them five minutes to get the thing over and done with, and afterwards Harry was able to add a hand job to his very short sexual resume.

A/N: Tuh. I will try to update in a more reasonable time henceforth. I am very sorry. Reviews are accepted with great joy! I loves t3h reviews. And I love you! Huzzah! It's Julie Andrews! And she's on FIRE!