- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -
Authoress Ramble: Below. This is really quite the odd chapter ... oo;.
Warnings: This story has been rated 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.
Semi-Important Note If You're Confused: Today is Saturday morning in the story.
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Harry let his eyes flutter open, blinking sleepily at the murky morning light as an image of the room around him came into focus. He was staring up at a stone ceiling, and as he turned his head, he saw a great fireplace, ashes and dying embers settled within it.
He sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes. He was frowning, his mind clouded with confusion; he couldn't remember having fallen asleep on the black leather couch. He remembered only being handed the vial, drinking its bitter contents .. and then, he recalled pain, throbbing pain .. and so many thoughts, too many scents and sensations .. a distant voice of concern ..
Draco.
His sleepy eyes shot open at the name, and he looked around franticly for any sign of the other boy. Sadly, however, he was alone in the secret room, a fact that deepened his frown. Not so much as the lingering scent of the blonde's skin remained ... or if it did, Harry was no longer capable of detecting it.
He sighed, shifting his position and thus forcing his skin to slide away from the patch of warm leather he'd created and onto a much cooler surface. He hissed at the sudden change in temperature, shivering.
Damn, it's really cold in here without the fire going ...
He looked across himself to see if he were wearing socks, at which point his jaw dropped. He swallowed hard as blood flooded his cheeks, burning them red.
Holy crap! he yelped, drawing his knees up to his heaving chest as he realized ... he wasn't wearing anything at all. He almost immediately toppled over, rolling off the sofa only to land with a soft thud next to a damp towel, which he threw hurriedly over his middle.
Why, his mind panicked, did I fall asleep stark bloody naked?!
He panted, struggling to remember the answer, as an image of a certain conceited blonde suddenly floated through his head.
Malfoy wouldn't have .. he couldn't have seen me naked .. ohh, shit .. no, he wouldn't have, the towel, it must have fallen off ... wait, yes, I was wearing the towel because I had taken a shower, because .. of that sticky crap that the bastard tricked me into .. oh ..
He sighed with relief as the memory flooded into him, though his cheeks were still a flaming red. The idea of Malfoy seeing him in the nude, well .. it sent uncomfortable waves through his stomach, shifts and drops of nervousness.
But the thought of seeing the blonde in little more than a rectangle of terry cloth ...
Absolutely disgusting, his mind answered immediately, dissipating the image as Harry squirmed, restless, beneath the towel. Why would you even think of that? Get your mind out of the gutter, and get some clothes on. And what time is it, anyway?
Harry glanced toward the clock, smiling a bit when he saw the pink silk still draped over the mantle. He stood, wrapping the towel more tightly about his taut stomach, and walked over to it, lifting the silky fabric to note the time.
8:27.
Oh, shit, Harry winced, turning back to the room as he began to scan it for his clothing. Ron is going to be out of his mind when he figures out that I spent the night .. well, not in my dorm like I bloody well should've .. awe crap, clothes! Where are my clothes?
He searched the area near the door several times, knowing full well that he'd set his extra set of clothing down near there the night before. He crawled on the floor and checked beneath the furniture, sneezing at the dust. He rummaged through the bathroom, finding only a wet shower and a foggy mirror.
He must have showered not too long ago .. argh, damn you Malfoy! Why couldn't you have kicked me awake or something?!
Even the sticky leather pants had disappeared. Harry sighed, walking over to the bedroom and sticking his head in; the room was dark, everything in it appearing dusty and completely untouched. He and Malfoy hadn't gone near the bedroom last night anyway, after all.
Harry sighed grievously, breath leaving his lips in a loud hiss. He couldn't find his clothes anywhere in the small apartment, a fact that was slowly making his blood boil. It was around this time that he spotted it.
A lone piece of parchment sitting rather inconspicuously on the corner of the desk, all of the potion-making supplies having long been cleared away. Harry walked over to it, picking it up with a sour look on his face.
Morning, Potter. Just to let you know ... I have returned the favor.
Have a lovely day, Malfoy
Harry scowled, crumpling the piece of parchment in his hand into a tight ball. He pursed his lips as he thought murderously, his green eyes flickering with deep anger.
That insufferable prat, his mind growled indignantly. I swear to the gods, I'll get you back for this trick. He threw the ball into the dead fire, watching out of the corner of his eye as it caused a small puff of ash to appear.
What am I going to do now? Harry said aloud, his voice sulky and miserable. The Gryffindor tower is almost halfway across the castle .. and fuck, he has my Invisibility Cloak as well! Gods .. I'll kill you for this one, Malfoy ..
He was still mumbling to himself as he walked over to the mantle, snatching the pink silk shirt from the clock and throwing it onto himself furiously, not bothering to meddle with the tight buttons.
I might as well give him what he wants before he dies, Harry thought distantly as he stormed out of the room and into the deserted dungeon corridor, his body shivering at the cold air.
I hope you enjoy this, Malfoy.
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Seventeen minutes later, Harry pushed the doors to the Great Hall open roughly, thundering inside with a miserable scowl on his face. He swept through the gap between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, not turning his head to look when a certain raven-haired sixth year spit her oatmeal back into its bowl, nor when dozens eyes snapped to his arse as he walked on.
He didn't so much as blink at the horrified, pale looks of Hermione and Ron as he sat himself down rather ruefully, snatching a blueberry Danish and shoving it angrily into his mouth.
Ron stuttered, swallowing his large clump of chewed bacon. He turned to look cluelessly at Hermione, whose wide brown eyes were locked on Harry, her inked quill having just recently been dropped into her plate of scrambled eggs.
What are you wearing, mate? Ron tried at last, still gaping. I mean, I recognize that shirt, but what happened to the pants?
A better question would be, Harry, why aren't you wearing any pants? Hermione huffed more than said from her place, her cheeks tinted pink. And Ronald was just telling you that you never came back to the Tower last night ... where were you?
Stop asking me questions, Harry snapped, licking a smear of blueberry glaze from the corner of his mouth. You sound like my ruddy mother.
Mate, we'd be insane not to ask about this, Ron commented weakly.
Harry, you just walked into the Great Hall wearing a towel, Hermione picked up harshly, picking her quill from her eggs with burrowed brows. A towel and a shirt that the gods know wasn't meant for a normal young man.
I like it, Harry growled. It feels good against my skin.
Ron paled at this, quickly taking a sausage and ramming it into his mouth.
That's not the point, Hermione scolded darkly. Tell me Harry, is this some kind of strange degression? Will tomorrow be just the towel, and Monday morning you'll parade in here completely naked?
Just work on your paper and mind your own less interesting business, Harry scowled, taking another large bite of his Danish. I'm fine, okay?
Right, and my Potions grade is on level with that of Neville, she snapped back harshly, frowning. Let's face it, Harry, you've been acting like .. well, as if you'd lost your mind.
Have to agree with her there, Ron piped, chewing slowly.
That's low, Harry said carefully, sending her a dark glare.
And anyway, where were you? Hermione rambled on, her eyes alive now with fury. Where did you spend the night? Ron and I are your friends, Harry, we care about you and we deserve to know where .. where ..
Harry frowned as Hermione began to stutter, her face paling as her eyes widened at something looming just behind his shoulder. He paused, then spun his head around to see for himself.
Mr. Potter, a dark voice drawled above him, sneering down at the Gryffindor breakfast table. Perhaps now would be a good time to refresh you on the finer points of what we like to deem .. the code of dress.
Harry paled, scowling up at the Potions Master with infuriated green eyes.
Firstly, while Saturday is a day throughout which relaxed dress is permitted, Snape continued on dryly. Hogwarts does require .. everyday, Potter .. that each and every student wear either pants, a skirt or a suitable full-robe. Yes, even you are not above this requirement. And I see you wearing neither.
It's a skirt, Harry hissed, narrowing his eyes.
Twenty points for so insolently attempting to avoid eminent punishment, Snape snarled, frowning down on him. And fifty points for the actual violation of dress. Go and put some pants on, Potter. We have seen enough.
I doubt that, Harry murmured loudly, adverting his eyes.
Twenty points for such a disgusting insinuation, Snape growled. Button that .. shirt as well, Potter, or better yet, find something a sane man might wear.
I have a question, Harry hissed back. How many points would you take off our House if I flashed you, here and now?
Hermione and Ron both gasped, their faces paling. Ron's lips twisted into a disgusted, confused frown.
Thirty-five points for that shameless, lurid remark! Snape shouted shrilly. Return to your dorm and change immediately, Potter! I will not tell you a second time!
And with that, he spun around and swept himself back to the Head Table, his black robes billowing in his wake.
You've lost it completely, mate, Ron said quietly at last, his lips twitching. I mean, that was .. one-hundred and twenty-five points for a towel!
I can count, Ron, Harry snapped darkly, taking a final bite of his Danish, chewing the warm pastry with furious, violent passion. He glanced toward the Slytherin table, wanting to see the haughty smirk on the blonde's face, his gloating eyes and victorious aura as he laughed and pointed with his friends.
He wasn't there.
Harry frowned, anger fading away as he realized this. Pansy was absent as well, in fact, leaving only Blaise, who was standing and slipping pieces of fruit into his pockets. His lips fell open, his frown deepening as it all sunk in.
He wasn't here to watch any of it.
Somehow, that made it all so much less fulfilling.
I'm going up to find some pants, Harry said distantly to his two thoroughly shocked and mangled friends, who both watched him stand with pale faces.
Try not to lose any more points from our House on the way back, Hermione commented with unusual venom, her mood having been completely destroyed even before nine in the morning. Harry nodded at her grimly, not wanting a fight.
He turned and began to make his way back to Gryffindor Tower, tugging his towel up as he went. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the notion that, despite a very eventful breakfast, he was missing a crucial piece of the entire demented situation.
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Pansy called, rapping her knuckles hard on the dark mahogany door to Draco's private bedroom. You're going to miss breakfast.
F'off, Panse, a muffled, very disgruntled voice called back. Pansy smiled, turning around and leaning her back and long, silky hair against the door.
But Draaaco, she shouted smoothly, It's Saturday morning, and they'll have Daaanishes. We both know how you love your bluuueberry Daaanishes ..
If you don't go the hell away, I'm going to air your up-the-arse panties out in the library. I mean it this time, you insufferable woman.
Long night, dear? she asked, letting the sing-song tone drop somewhat from her voice.
You have no idea, the voice grumbled back.
Hangover, lovely? she tried, raising her elegant eyebrows.
Of a mental sort, I guess, the voice called, followed by a loud groan. I want to sleep, Panse. Fucking sleep all fucking day.
You have to tell me what happened first, Pansy half-called, half-sulked, turning back to face the door. Drake, I've heard that voice before. It's the I have just experienced one of the few apexes of my life' voice. You can't hide it from me.
Go to breakfast, Panse. Just go.
I'm standing outside this door all day until you tell me, she shouted loudly, frowning incredulously. I'm your best friend! I'm here for you and I deserve to know! At least about all of the important shit!
the voice screamed back, and in an instant the door swung open, revealing the blonde's roomy private quarters. Pansy stepped inside, a self-satisfied smirk on her face, and shut the door firmly behind her.
Now pour your heart out, sweetie, she said sweetly, walking toward the floating black bed in which Draco lay buried beneath the bedcoverings, his head shoved into a silky black pillow. He sighed when he heard the door slam shut and sat up slowly, blinking darkly at his intruder.
I hate you sometimes, Panse, he muttered sleepily. I really hate you.
she hummed gently, walking up the miniature set of stairs and settling herself cross-legged on the bed, near the blonde's outstretched calves. Just tell me what's on your mind.
It's complicated, Draco snapped, wishing deeply that he had never let the girl into his bedroom.
Just start at the beginning, she soothed, resting her head cockily in her hand and smirking. It can't be all that bad, dear, if you let me in.
I lost control last night, he whispered harshly, frowning. That's all.
Lost control? Pansy repeated, her eyes widening in surprise. What does that mean? Did you hurt someone badly?
Draco snapped, sighing. I didn't.
You didn't kill anyone? Pansy gasped, paling a little.
Of course not! the blonde growled, and the girl sighed with relief, her confident smile slowly returning to full form.
I didn't think so, she said lightly. An idea suddenly lit up her dark eyes. Actually, wait, wasn't last night one of those rendezvous things with Potter? This has something to do with him, doesn't it?
In a way, Draco muttered, adverting his eyes. Pansy leaned forward joyfully, an eager smile gracing her pretty face.
Now this is what I like to hear, she purred, her eyes flashing brilliantly. Tell me what happened between you two. I swear, I won't tell a soul.
Nothing happened! Draco snarled a little too quickly. Gods! Would you just listen to me for a second? I'm just .. confused about .. something. That's all.
Pansy repeated curiously. What's the something?
Draco frowned, adverting his eyes once again. Fuck, Panse, look. It doesn't matter, okay? Go down and eat something.
Oh, no, Pansy dismissed, I'm not going anywhere now! Face it, Drake, you've said too much. I'm in too deep and I know too much ... so just tell me!
Draco snapped in response, scowling. I think I'm ...
Pansy asked eagerly, leaning further forward.
Shut up! the blonde growled, returning to his sentence. I think I might be .. ehrm .. oh, fuck it, I think I might be gay.
He looked back at Pansy, whose lips were parted, her dark eyes wide with amazement. She sat stunned for a moment, then grinned, flashing her sharp, white teeth.
You're gay! she yelped, not noticing when Draco winced at the word. I knew it! Oooh, I knew it! Long before the fucking Daily Prophet guessed, I knew it! I mean, after all, I've known you for-
Shut up! Draco snarled, wiping the grin from her face. Just shut the fuck up! I don't know yet, okay?! It's .. it's never really come up before!
So you've just recently moved from the denial stage to the exploration stage, Pansy said to herself in wonder, ignoring once again the dark looks she was earning. I'm curious as to what brought on this sudden change of heart.
It doesn't matter, Draco murmured venomously. And besides, I don't know yet. I'm not sure, and I don't know when I can be. If I can ever be ...
I know how we can find out, Pansy grinned eagerly, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Well, at least, on some basic level. Give me your hand, sweetie.
Draco frowned, sneering at her odd enthusiasm.
Your hand, she commanded, snatching it as soon as he hesitantly held it out. She twisted it quickly so that his palm was up, and then firmly, and absolutely without warning, pressed it into one of her round breasts.
Draco took his breath in with shock, meeting Pansy's eager eyes with a muddled, disgusted sort of expression.
Do you feel anything? she asked energetically, watching as Draco slowly shook his head. Huh. Well, trying giving it a good squeeze then.
The blonde winced, but complied, squeezing the jiggly flesh gently between his pale fingers. He met Pansy's eyes once again, as if awaiting further instruction.
What's going through your head? she asked, leaning forward curiously. Draco frowned, trying to find the right words.
It's sort of .. squishy, I guess, he mumbled, shrugging.
And totally au naturelle, babe. So you have no desire whatsoever to jump and rape me? Pansy asked calmly, cocking her head a bit to the side.
Panse, I wouldn't rape you with three bottles of Firewhiskey in my blood, Draco replied, smirking a bit. You, however, seem to be enjoying this.
she smirked. But it's a relief that you don't want to shag me. I have this thing for this other sexy piece of arse, you see.
I'm insulted, Draco smiled, pretending to sulk. His silver eyes flickered mischievously.
Ahh, well Drakey, somehow the skin is less appealing once you've got your fingernails dug into the heart, she grinned back warmly, her eyes laughing.
And at this moment, the heavy door swung open, revealing a wickedly smiling Blaise standing with heavily loaded pockets. He walked into the room, ignoring the black glares he was being sent.
Hey, you left your door charmed unlocked, and I brought you some apples because you didn't come down and ... woah, Blaise rambled loudly, his jaw dropping when he looked up to see Draco's hand still squeezing Pansy's left breast.
I'll, uhh, come back in twenty minutes, he gasped, spinning around promptly.
Don't bother, Blaizeekins, we were just testing something out, Pansy laughed as Draco immediately dropped his hand. You brought our Drake fruit? That's sweet of you.
Yeah, well, pretending to steal is kinda fun, he grinned, walking over to the bed. He took a polished apple out of his pocket and threw it to Draco, who breathed on it and began to wipe it off with his black silk pajama top. You'll never guess what I saw in the Great Hall, though. Fucking hilarious.
Potter without any clothes on, Draco said immediately, sinking his white teeth gratefully into the apple.
Potter walked in wearing .. hey, how the hell did you find out? Blaise sulked, his story ruined. That's damn freaky, how you always know everything that goes on.
He walked in nude? Pansy gasped, raising an eyebrow.
In a towel, actually, Blaise smiled again. But fuck, close enough! And Snape was so pissed off at him that he took off one-hundred and twenty five points from Gryffindor! Potter argued with him, but I didn't hear any of it.
How sad for him, Draco remarked distantly, licking a drop of juice from his bottom lip.
Blaise nodded, offering an orange to Pansy, who smiled sweetly and took it. Granger's head looked about to implode.
That girl needs to lighten up, Pansy rang in, smirking.
I have his clothes, Draco commented, a sinful smile playing across his lips. Immediately, both pairs of eyes snapped to him, jaws dropping.
Pansy laughed, recognition filling her eyes. I want to see!
Draco waved vaguely in the direction of the black leather armchair pulled up to his fireplace. Sitting on its arm were a bundled pair of simple black pants, a dark grey t-shirt, a pair of shoes and a silvery, half-transparent cloak.
Blaise grinned widely, a smug look forming on his face. That's nice!
And that damn cloak, Pansy purred contentedly. That's a nice bribe, isn't it, Drake?
I suppose, Draco drawled, laughing a little and pushing temporarily away the bitter, confused, sweet thoughts that had filled his mind upon waking.
Blaise nodded, though his lips were falling into a frown. But, I mean ... how did you manage to get his clothes?
Pansy's eyes lit up at this comment, and she turned to Draco with a wide grin on her lips, her face filled with pure wickedness.
Draco snapped, narrowing his eyes at what he knew she was thinking. Dear gods, no.
Pansy purred in response, clasping her hands tightly.
Draco hissed, sneering at her enthusiasm as waves of doubt crashed within his stomach.
But I'm so proud of you, Drakey! Pansy yelped, dismissing the black look the blonde was shooting her and throwing her arms around him, pushing him down into the bed and enveloping him in a bone-crashing hug. Blaise, stuck in the background, laughed as he always did.
Draco, somewhere beneath her shoulders and bulging breasts, sighed, his mind torn between coming up with a decent no touching violation punishment for Pansy and further contemplating the bigger issue at hand ... the night before.
After all, he'd as good as blurted it to Pansy. That meant it was real.
It meant it was happening. The only choice he had now was just how to let it unravel, whether it sprawled terribly out of his hands or played out perfectly within them. Personally, he was much more fond of control than chaos, and he was just as fond of getting what he wanted.
If only he could figure out just what what he wanted was.
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Draco:It has come to my attention that despite my instructing you NOT to review, a whole crapload of you sick people ACTUALLY DID. Apparently you find it amusing to disobey me. I have, thus, decided to FORCE you NOT to review with a threat!
LISTEN WELL, FOOLS! Your precious, precious Harry Potter is currently handcuffed to my bed -- YES, at this very moment! And should anyone review, he will GET WHAT HE DESERVES from me!
So think very carefully before you decide to ignore me this time. Your fun could result in Harry Potter's doom at my hand. That's right - I'll torture him in my own bed.
It's your call, you pathetic, slash-loving cretins!
