- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -

Authoress Ramble: My life is stagnating, miserable and insatiable, just like my favorite character to portray through words. It isn't such a coincidence, I suppose. I hope that you enjoy my writing.

Warnings: This story has been rated 'R' for repeated use of language and eventual sexual content (none now). Also, it is slash, though I don't feel that should influence the rating ... read as your morals and inhibitions permit.

Disclaimer: Obviously Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger et cetera, et cetera, all belong to J.K. Rowling, the rich genius authoress of the entire Harry Potter series, and also her publishers, et cetera, et cetera, though all original plot lines independent of her novels and her characters belong to me as they were derived from my own twisted mind, et cetera, et cetera, so please do not sue me as I am but a poor, lonely, slash-loving girl authoress, et cetera, et cetera.

==================================================

Harry sat patiently on the cool November grass of the Hogwarts' grounds, his legs sprawled unceremoniously beneath him. He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His nervous eyes gleamed the color of sea glass in the murky noon sun.

Ron and Hermione had tried their best to convince him not to come, told him that it wasn't worth being hurt or getting in trouble, just for a quick fight. Ron had even suggested that it would piss Malfoy off more if he didn't show than if he did and tried, but Harry had shrugged him off.

Somehow, he didn't think that was what this was about.

The enmity between the two of them seemed different now. Malfoy had been put in a situation he'd probably never had to deal with, Harry knew, and it was a situation he knew well. The Daily Prophet had published countless articles detailing what kind of person Harry was expected to be and to become: he was the brave, eager hero, willing to give up his life in the blink of an eye to save the Wizarding world. He was an attention-seeker, a lover of limelight, though in reality he'd gradually grown farther and farther from his friends.

The only difference between his publicity and this new article involving Malfoy was that he, Harry, felt pressured to live up to the hero assumption, and Malfoy was fighting desperately not to be thought of as queer.

'That's probably why he chose to kiss Hermione,' Harry thought weakly to himself. 'To divert attention from the article. And this morning ... yeah. He wants the attention he'd been getting from just being an arse back, to replace the attention people are giving him when they gossip about his sexuality.'

The castle had indeed been buzzing since yesterday morning's article; everywhere he turned, he heard snipets of conversation detailing Malfoy's name, discussing the kinds of clothes he wore, the way he'd never really seen any girl, despite sleeping around with several. Harry tried his best to tune it out; hearing others gossip about someone's sexuality, even Malfoy's, disgusted him.

It also scared him.

Even if Malfoy wasn't gay, he was still currently living what Harry considered one of his worst nightmares. He knew that if the entire school found about his sexuality from a newspaper article that revealed the news to the entire world, he would die. He would draw his bedcurtains, curl up into a tight ball of misery, and die.

In that way, Harry felt slightly sorry for his enemy.

"Afternoon, Potter," a voice drawled.

Harry looked up calmly, having been expecting it. Standing above him, several feet away, was Draco Malfoy, the cool November wind tousling his short, sculpted- yet somehow still silky and bendable- pale tresses.

"They had you pinned with the hair concept, you have to admit that," Harry said with a distant smile.

"Fuck you, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "I am so bloody fucking sick of hearing about that damned article. As soon as my father owls me back, assuming he hasn't disowned me out of shame at this point, I'm having him hire the best fucking lawyer money can buy. The Daily-Fucking-Prophet is going to be paying out of its sorry arse until my coffin is full to bursting with gold."

"You swear too fucking much," Harry said lightly, standing.

"Aren't you cute," Malfoy replied with a sneer. "It was a good move mentioning the article, though, before we dueled; now I'm pissed as fuck. You'll get to deal with the best of me, Potter."

"That's fitting, seeing as I already get to play with the worst," Harry replied simply. He drew his wand from his pocket; and then, simply, threw it aside.

"What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy gasped, staring at Harry's wand, now lying useless in the thick, shuffling grass of the lawn.

"I want this fight to be a bit more personal than that," Harry answered, cocking his head lightly to the side. "What's wrong, Drake? Afraid you'll mess up your hair?"

"Don't you dare call me that," Malfoy snapped. "Pansy calls me that, for fuck's sake, and I only take it from her because ... well ... fuck you, fine, no wands then."

He threw his passionately aside.

"Because she's your girlfriend?" Harry taunted, grinding his feet eagerly into the ground.

"No," Malfoy answered sourly, looking at his hands uncomfortably. No wands?

"Your worthless lover?" Harry ventured, grinning a bit.

"Don't call Pansy a whore in front of me," Malfoy growled. "Even if she is, I'll be damned if she's to be called that to my face. That gossiping wench is my-"

"Your friend, how sweet," Harry finished for him, letting his fingers curl into tight fists.

"Let's just get this over with, Potter," Malfoy snapped, rolling his eyes a bit before clenching his own fists and then, almost immediately, reaching out to punch Harry hard in the jaw.

Harry reeled back, surprised. He hadn't expected Malfoy to have any skill with his delicate-looking, manicured hands; the blow had been uncouthly hard.

Malfoy made for another swing, this time aiming for the other side of Harry's jaw. He saw the move before it came, luckily, and blocked Malfoy's arm, sinking his fist deeply into his opponent's stomach while his arm was still frozen in the air.

Malfoy gagged, leaning far over and paling before stepping backwards. Harry waited patiently, arms up and ready, until the boy recovered, then lunged for his face.

He hit the other boy hard, his knuckles bruising the pale skin of his cheek and hitting his nose from the side, causing a stream of blood to begin to trickle down from it. Malfoy retaliated by scowling and hooking his calve behind Harry's knee, sweeping his feet from under him.

Harry hit the ground hard, back first, head second; he groaned with pain, lights dancing in his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Malfoy's coy smirk not more than a foot above his face. He then realized that a pair of legs were gripping his waist, pinning him down; he winced when Malfoy easily punched his face, splitting his lip.

"You're right, Potter," Malfoy said shrewdly as he pinned both of Harry's wrists to the grass-covered dirt, "This is much, much more fun."

He reached out his pale hand to the right, groping in the grass until, with a triumphant, twisted grin, he withdrew it, his wand clasped tightly in his fist.

"Oh, fuck," Harry moaned. He took the opportunity of having one arm free to struggle wildly, only to be punched again, this time harder. Malfoy uttered a quick incantation, and in an instant, his wrists were fastened together, high above his head, by a tight length of rope.

"I think I've won," Malfoy spoke silkily above him, smiling wickedly.

"Fucking hell," Harry cursed, twisting his wrists to no avail. "You fucking cheater! No wands!"

"I had you beaten before I retrieved my wand, admit it," Malfoy explained leisurely. He lowered the tip of his wand, nudging it gently on the very top of Harry's nose.

"What should I cast on you?" he pondered lazily, his smile widening as he noticed that beads of sweat were steadily forming on his captive's forehead. "Should I transfigure you into a dirty old mouse and put you in Severus' desk drawer? I heard that he hates it when mice shit on his parchment ... I doubt he'd let you live long .."

"What? No!" Harry yelped grimly, cringing.

"Or I could make you into a naked portrait, and hang you in the Slytherin common room," Malfoy considered thoughtfully.

"You can do that?" Harry asked meekly, watching as the boy above him raised an eyebrow, shrugging as though disinterested.

"Or I could make you puke out the entrails of a rotten, deceased goat for a solid week," Malfoy grinned, turning his eyes back down to him. Harry twitched violently; by the glint in the other boy's eyes, he could definitely pull off that curse.

He nudged the wand, poking Harry's nose.

"Well, what will it be then?" Malfoy asked, looking down at him almost curiously. Harry shook his head wildly, cringing.

"Oh?" Malfoy asked, as if he had just answered. "Well then, the nude portrait it is!"

He poked Harry's nose again, his lips twisting sinfully upward.

"Wait!" Harry cried suddenly, his eyes widening. "Wait, stop! I .. I want to make a deal with you!"

"A deal?" Malfoy repeated, looking honestly surprised. He withdrew his wand an inch, releasing Harry's violated nose.

"Yes," Harry stuttered. In truth, he had no deal in mind, but it had seemed an excellent escape plan just moments before: Malfoy could refuse no offer that could in the end benefit him. "Yes, ehrm ... I propose that ... uhh, well .."

"Spit it out, Potter," Malfoy hissed threateningly, impatient.

"I'll show you how to act really fucking straight!" Harry spat, flushing considerably. "No one will find reason to question it again! And ... yeah!"

Malfoy raised an elegant eyebrow, looking interested, but still highly skeptical.

"Oh really, how kind of you," he said in a low voice. "And what's in it for you, Potter? Other than, of course, the immediate continuance of your life."

"Ehrm," Harry choked. "You could tutor me in Potions?"

Malfoy sneered down at him, amused, and Harry flushed further. It was lame, he knew, and to be blunt, pathetic. In all honesty, though, he did need it .. he was failing, and Malfoy knew it perfectly well. It was at least a coherent, sensible lie.

"I need it to continue onto Auror training after school. I can't fail," Harry added meekly. Who the fuck was he kidding? Malfoy didn't need him to show him how to act stereotypically heterosexual, and he certainly would never agree to tutor him in any subject. The idea in itself was worthy of ridicule.

Fortunately, Harry had unestimated the importance of pride to Malfoy. He was desperate to regain his former reign as Unquestioned Ice Prince. That and, strangely enough ... he was intrigued.

"Fine, Potter," Malfoy said quietly. "It's a deal. I'll agree, but only under a few simple conditions."

Harry stared up at him blankly, stunned: he was willing to do it?

He hadn't been expecting that.

"Firstly," Malfoy drawled, ignoring his stare of shock, "I will tutor you using whatever teaching methods I deem acceptable. Secondly, you will not do anything in my presence in regard to .. instructing me that I find repulsive or demeaning and thirdly, and most importantly, if you tell anyone we've made his deal, I will sneak into your dorm, lock you behind your bedcurtains and set the entire fucking bed on fire."

"Right," Harry agreed. "I .. I set the same terms toward you."

"You talk like such a pussy when you're helpless, Potter, Malfoy said, sighing. In a flick of his wrist, the ropes disappeared; Harry shifted his arms to his sides gratefully, sitting up.

Malfoy hadn't moved, bringing the two nearly nose to nose; as Harry raised his knees automatically, it became immediately obvious that his enemy was now sitting on his lap.

Still, for a long second, neither moved, silver gazing unblinkingly into deep green, as if daring the latter to admit the situation.

Then, in a sudden moment, Malfoy somehow managed to topple gracefully to his side, off of Harry's lap and onto the soft grass. He stood immediately, brushing his black robe and clothing off wildly. Harry, his heart beating strangely fast, stood a second later.

"So," he said, smiling unknowingly at the frantic way Malfoy was tidying himself, completely avoiding looking Harry in the face, "When do we meet for this?"

"Fuck if I care, "Malfoy snapped, finally looking up after picking eight blades of grass off his black sweater. "Late is probably best. And I refuse to go anywhere near the bloody Gryffindor quarters."

"I could meet you in the dungeons," Harry stated simply, silently thanking Moony, Padfoot and Prongs for their glorious, 2-D treasure.

"You know your way around them?" Malfoy sneered, incredulous. Harry nodded, unfazed, and shrugged.

"Fine then," he continued. "Meet me in the room three doors down from Snape's office. If you just open it, you'll see a closet filled with old brooms and shit, but if you tap on the door with your wand first and say, 'Biddeus Ouvriri' it'll open to a pretty decent room. Tomorrow night, at ten."

"We're meeting in a broomcloset?" Harry gasped, his eyes widening slightly.

"No, I just fucking explained what it is!" Malfoy snarled. "Just be there, all right?"

"Sure," Harry nodded, slightly bewildered by the blonde's temper.

"Good," Malfoy mumbled. "Oh, and Potter?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked, blinking slowly.

"You blushed when I used that rope charm on you," Malfoy said slowly, his silver eyes glinting with twisted amusement. "Care to explain that one?"

"Uhh," Harry stuttered, feeling his stomach drop sharply. "It .. it reminded me of a night I spent with, uhh .. err, that is .."

"The Cho girl?" Malfoy spat distastefully. Harry nodded immediately, glad for the answer put so easily into his mouth.

"I bet you begged long and hard for that one," he sneered, amused to be thinking of a submissive Harry. He ran a hand back through his hair, adjusting it perfectly.

'Hah, Potter in bed with that emotional sponge of a girl,' Malfoy thought. 'His hands tied to the bedposts .. completely nude and helpless .. yes, whimpering while she ran her hands down his body, while he begged for it .. feeling his skin under my hands ..'

'Under my hands? No, fuck, her hands ... her filthy hands .. wait ... yes, hers. What the hell am I thinking? Damn, Draco, he must have punched you too hard after all .. your mind is just still dwelling on the fight .. which you won .. hmm, always satisfying ..'

"Malfoy?" Harry asked aloud a moment later, his jaw slightly agape.

He snapped from his thoughts immediately, looking up into Harry's confused green eyes. He stared at him for a second, feeling oddly flustered, and then scowled, going back to brushing invisible particles away from his dark clothing.

"What the fuck are you staring at, Potter?" he snarled, finally finding a piece of grass near his waist.

"Nothing," Harry answered honestly. "Look, lunch is ending soon .. I'm going back inside."

"Me too, of course," Malfoy mumbled sourly. He looked Harry over a final time, making sure to frown distastefully as he did so, and then spun elegantly around, his black robes swirling at his feet.

Both boys began to make their way back to the castle, though the darker boy walked considerably faster than the other, who lagged uncomfortably behind, watching the first.

Harry's stomach felt twisted, his chest tight; he sighed when he knew the other boy was too far away to hear him.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

'Leave it to me,' Harry thought miserably, 'To bite off more than I can chew.'

He shook his head, shaking his deeper thoughts free. If he could hardly understand him, how was he supposed to help him? And without pissing him off to the point of being cursed or killed, for that matter?

And what he'd said about the ropes .. he hadn't even noticed that he'd ...

Harry shook his head a second time, blinking his eyes as he did so. It was actually a bit amusing, if you thought on it long enough.

It was bizarrely ironic that he, of all people, was going to teach Malfoy how to act unquestionably straight, when he himself was .. to be fully honest .. not so clear on the idea himself.

Walking back to the castle, whether from ironic amusement or something else, Harry found himself smiling.

=================================================================

I'm rather sad ... I'm not sure if that affected my writing at all, I don't believe it did. In any case, I hope that you are all well, and that you enjoyed reading this new chapter as much as I enjoying writing it. Take care, my loves, and please review if you want more soon.