- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -

Authoress Ramble: This chapter is quirky .. heh, heh. I come up with the oddest ideas sometimes .. mmm'ph ... hurray for the upcoming beginning of the end. I hope you've all been well, and thank you for reviewing. D You really do motivate me to go on!

Warnings: This story has been rated for repeated use of language and 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 Tuesday morning in the story.

This chapter is dedicated to a sexy woman named Juu!
Draw me Harry and Draco pr0no! 3

Harry stirred in his sleep, rolling over onto his side and groaning quietly with effort of this motion. His shoulder landed pressed against something firm and warm, and for a few long seconds it rested there, tolerated, until the weight shifted and moved away in a low-pitched creak of old bedsprings. His shoulder fell onto twisted sheets then, and he continued to breathe in slowly, in and out. The dust sent into the air from the shiftings settled around him in a brown-grey cloud, illuminated eerily by the murky morning light that poured in from the only window.

He breathed in, his eyelids jerking at the light as dust filled his nostrils. His chest quivered suddenly, and his lips parted, his neck jolting up as suddenly, he sneezed. His green eyes shot open, wide at first but almost immediately drooping back down to a halfpoint, still heavy with sleep. He settled his head back onto the pillow, intent on returning to his previous state.

Bless you, Potter.

Harry's eyes shot open as though a bucket of icy water had just been poured over him, his senses immediately alert; he knew that voice. He sat up as quickly as he could, though clumsily, his body still awkward from fatigue, and when his sight caught up with his position he paled, gaping at the sight before him.

Draco was lying on his side a mere three feet away from him on the bed, a bored frown playing on his lips. He was holding his head up with his hand in such a way that it tangled into his white-blonde hair, silky chunks of it falling haphazardly between his fingers as he continued to stare evenly at him, waiting.

Harry blinked back sleep, struggling to understand his surroundings. His mind was hazy, but bit by bit snippets of information flooded it, slowly solving the puzzle.

he blurted at last, accusingly. He raised a blonde eyebrow slightly in response, as if questioning him. Harry opened his mouth wider, but the words would not come. He blinked again, staring openly at the boy before him, disoriented and confused.

Right on the mark there, the blonde impatiently snapped, his frown deepening.

You .. you! Harry exclaimed, pulling himself up fully and sitting back on his haunches. He extended his hand, pointing at Draco rudely, who narrowed his eyes slightly at the finger. You .. wait, where are we?

The other boy sighed, closing his eyes as he did so, as though he were suddenly very tired.

The closet, he replied lazily. There's a bedroom off the main room, and though I never cared to show it to you, it was always here. I had always hated it because it's so goddamn - Merlin, Potter, put down your finger! Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look, singling me out from no one?

The blonde scoffed at him, and Harry scowled, lowing his arm offhandedly. It was awkward from where he knelt, so close to him, looking down on him from so near. It reminded him of the nights he and Ron had both sat on his bed, studying or playing a game of chess or the like, and it felt entirely wrong with the blonde.

Draco was reclining serenely on the bed, a bit haughtily, yes, but aside from that he seemed to have not a fear in the world. It made Harry stiffen his spine, sitting up straighter.

I remember what you did to me, he spat, the final events of the night before finally coming to him. You tried to strange me to death! Is that what you're doing in here, checking to see whether or not I woke up this morning?!

Draco's eyes widened slightly, and he continued to stare at Harry intently with the eyes of a person surprised with the creativity of a wrong answer.

Harry growled. His anger was ebbing into him again, hot and familiar. He reached up to his neck, his fingers brushing where he knew the inevitable bruises had to be. Look at this!

There's nothing there, Draco said, appearing mildly alarmed, but still eerily calm.

The hell there isn't! Harry shouted, leaning toward him as he did so. The hand buried in Draco's hair shifted, the fingers twitching with slight surprise at the closed distance. Tell me what you're doing here, and why you put me here! Did you want to lock me up somewhere so that I couldn't sneak off in the night, if I woke up when you slept?

Draco sneered openly at this, disgusted.

I did no such thing, Potter, he seethed. I didn't lock you anywhere, the door has been open all fucking night! Try it for yourself and see, and what the hell do you mean what am I doing here? I fucking slept here!

Harry froze, the words stabbing into him.

You .. slept here? he choked out, staring at the tangled sheets around the blonde disbelievingly.

Draco spat. I did, and if you don't want to believe it, just look at my ruddy three hundred galleon sweater. Ruined, just completely ruined. The color will never come back the same shade of grey.

Harry did look, and was startled to see that the blonde's grey sweater, usually immaculate along with all the rest of the blonde, was covered with large, ground-in patches of thick brown dust. As he stared, Draco began compulsively stroking the shirt to shake off the dust, and Harry jolted, looking away.

Why would you do that? he mumbled to himself, still hesitant to look up at the boy across from him who had now sat up slightly, rubbing the brown dust from his pressed black slacks. It made him seem farther away when he didn't meet his eyes, and he felt safer speaking this way, without silver slicing into him.

He listened as Draco continued to brush his pants angrily, staring down at the black sheets of the bed. They were filthy, and only then did it occur to Harry how wrong it was for Draco to be there, how much he had always loathed dust and filth and how he had, for the past five years, avoided it at any cost. He remembered how once, last year, he had witnessed Pansy, snickering evilly all the while, grab a handful of ground pugil scales during Potions and throw it into his hair.

He had exploded, and Snape had to confiscate his wand for the period just to ensure her survival. They had not spoken for weeks. Recalling this little incident deepened Harry's frown, and he bit his lip, now momentarily too confounded to be furious. Why had he slept near him, in this filthy bed?

He took a risk and glanced at Draco, who was either ignoring him or had not heard him, as he was continuing to groom his clothes desperately.

Why don't you just use a scourgifying charm on your sweater? Harry blurted, and before he could contain himself, an insult automatically flowed from his lips. You look like a helpless Muggle.

This caught his attention. Draco stopped immediately and looked up at him, glaring at him murderously. Harry frowned, wanting to scowl but feeling no honest motivation, slinking his eyes away from the piercing stare as the blonde opened his mouth to speak.

I have not been trained in the art of mundane housework spellcasting, Draco spat, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. Unlike you, I grew up in a proper wizarding household, complete with house elves. I was never forced to clean shit from my possessions, therefore, why the hell would I learn how?

said Harry airily, who was glad to have the old Draco back again in front of him, almost glad to have dissipated the blonde that had laid beside him on the bed, confidently sprawled out as if displayed for his pleasure. I guess that explains why I'm not a spoiled prick then, doesn't it?

Aren't you witty in the early morning hours, Draco snapped, having forgotten about his dirty sweater all together now. I should stop by and have a word with you at breakfast every morning. You must have the cleverest insults then.

You're just as bright, I'm sure, Harry seethed. Sleeping in a bed that hasn't been touched in a decade, with dust between the sheets! I'm surprised a doxie didn't bite me in the ass while I slept!

I'm shocked one didn't climb into your big bloody mouth and make a fucking nest! Draco exclaimed, his eyes darkening.

Why did you sleep here, anyway? Harry growled, all shyness gone as he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the blonde. I can see you wanting me to be filthy, but why stay here yourself? There's a perfectly good couch just outside the door!

I was tired and delirious, you smug asshole! Draco screamed. He sat up further and began to shift, and before Harry realized what was happening the blonde had slid from the bed and landed on his feet with a soft smack. It may have been the fucking potion I was illegally slipped last night! Just fuck off about it, Potter!

Where are you going? Harry cried from the bed, his hands curling into fists. Draco, who had walked halfway across the bedroom in pursuit of the door, stopped suddenly and spun around to face him.

I'm going to shower, he growled, staring at him. Harry blinked, staring him down in return, though no amount of his pent-up anger could match the burning lust for destruction that glowed in red hot silver before him.

Harry snapped at last, unable to come up with a decent reply. The blonde scoffed, his lips twisting unpleasantly.

he said back sarcastically, and then, to Harry's complete and utter horror, he slid his hands under his sweater and began to lift them, pulling the dusty cashmere over his head.

The black-haired boy blinked, his eyes widening and his fists loosening as he watched, whether horrified or fascinated he could not say. He stared as inch by inch, Draco's pale, taut stomach was revealed, and then his flat chest and two small, faintly pink nipples and then the delicate but firm muscle of his upper arms, all molded together with curves nearly too sharp to be curves at all, and then .. silver burning with anger ..

Harry blinked again, snapping back into reality and shuddering.

You look disgusted, Potter, Draco spat, his voice a low, strained whisper. He held the brunette's confused green eyes for a long moment before turning back around again and storming from the bedroom.

Harry jumped when the door slammed shut, and then his body relaxed immediately, the scent of dank uncleanliness occurring to him suddenly, the gritty black sheets rough against his legs. He wanted to justify it, to apply some kind of reason to what had just taken place. He had been shocked, seeing that, seeing Malfoy like that.

Draco was right, he was right. He was just disgusted.

Harry climbed down from the bed, still in a slight daze. He had never thought that Draco could look so human, so real to him, so unlike the perfectly clothed, perfectly predictable git that had tormented him all his days here. It amazed him that Draco had skin beneath the cashmere and blood beneath that, blood that flowed through a beating heart whose flesh, he knew, held hate and love and life.

He walked from the bedroom, entering the main room of the closet without really seeing it. He heard the sound of pouring water coming from the bathroom - Draco was showering. Immediately images flowed to him, images of a pale chest and a slender neck, sneering lips - no, he pushed that away, that was wrong and he filed it away immediately, automatically.

He walked past the bathroom door with some hesitation, and it was then that he spotted it. He had thrown his dirty grey sweater carelessly onto the black leather sofa, and Harry stared at it for a long moment, remembering what it looked like pulled snugly over his body.

Without considering for even a second what he was doing, Harry reached into his pocket and swiftly withdrew his wand. He pointed it at the rumpled sweater, parting his lips slowly.

he whispered, and in an instant the sweater was again a soft, rich grey. It lifted itself into the air and folded itself into a neat rectangle, and he nodded at it as he left the room hurriedly, not knowing if he would ever return, if he would ever want to return.

He ran a hand back through his messy black hair once he met the dank dungeon air, sighing and hoping that said blonde prick had not caused him to miss breakfast.

Good morning Drake! Pansy cooed, turning away from her fruit plate in time to beam at him fully before he slumped lazily into his place at the table. She continued to smile as he grunted at her, reaching immediately for his empty goblet.

It is a good morning, isn't it? she sang, scooting toward him. Blaise, sensing an upcoming fight, turned toward the pair as he chewed through his bacon.

Draco said, narrowing his eyes at the goblet.

Your hair is damp, Pansy declared suddenly. She lifted her hand, patting him awkwardly on top of his head. You must have been in a real rush this morning if you didn't have time to properly finish your hair.

She smirked, delighted at this. Blaise winced as the blonde between them suddenly slammed his goblet down on the wood, his unfocused eyes flaring momentarily with anger.

he growled, and instantaneously his goblet was filled with a maple-covered liquid poured over crackling ice. Pansy whistled, impressed.

You really have those house elves whipped! she exclaimed in awe. They must've heard stories about you from the one you lost, that odd one .. what was his name? Gobby?

Draco did not answer. Instead, he raised the goblet to his lips, taking a long sip.

Pansy blinked, confused for a moment at this. She pondered it for a moment, watching him as he set the goblet roughly back down, and then decided on optimism.

I would need to drink too, you know, she said teasingly, leaning closer to whisper in Draco's ear. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, his hand coiling more tightly around the goblet. Having to spend the whole day pretending to be thinking of lessons when really .. when really you're thinking about being alone with --

Shut up the fuck up, Draco snapped fluidly, taking another long draw of his alcohol. Pansy frowned, her face falling as though slapped.

It's not a good morning, then? she whimpered.

Draco seethed. No, it is not a fucking good morning. This morning sucks like a dementor eating out my soul, this forsaken morning is fucking--

Pansy sighed loudly, interrupting him.

I knew he would do something, she said mournfully. He's so rash, isn't he? I knew he couldn't just take what was offered to him. He just always has to shake the box and break whatever's inside ...

I was not offering myself--

Ooo, I'm so mad, I could just spit venom! Pansy exclaimed loudly. She drew her hands into tight little fists to prove her point, quivering them over her forgotten breakfast plate. Boys are all so stupid! Just stupid!

Blaise said oddly, leaning in.

Just shut your face! Draco snapped at her, raising his goblet again. We are not talking about this, not now, not again! Just forget about it, won't you?

Pansy yelped breathlessly. No, no, he ruined everything I set up!

Don't even get me fucking started on how this is entirely your fault! You sent that bloody letter, you--

And you tried so hard to intercept it, and after all that hard work, he has to go and ruin the meeting! Ohh, how dare he! the long-haired girl raged on, waving her hands about her wildly. And just look at you all sulky now, you were supposed to be so happy, ohh it just makes me want to-

I am not sulking over that--

What are we talking about again? Blaise whimpered.

--jinx him or something! Yes! Yes, I'll jinx him! No -- I'll jinx his broom, that really nice one he's got, the lightning bolt! Yes, I'll make it so that it really shocks him! Oh, that will show him, setting off my plans--

It's called a firebolt, you daft, pathetic little female, and you can't jinx it, Draco hissed, his face tinted a firm shade of red. You'd have to be a bloody expert in Quidditch brooms to do that, you can't just--

Pansy cried again, slamming her fists weakly onto the table. I know what I'll do! I'll go have a word with him .. right this instant .. hmmph!

With this she stood up dramatically, jumping over the bench and storming away from the Slytherin table. Draco's eyes widened, and he glared at her warningly, but when it appeared that she was not going to stop he, too, jumped from his seat and followed her.

As she approached the table, Hermione was the first to look up, turning away from her open Charms textbook and plate of buttered toast at the sound of her loudly clicking high heels. Ron, alarmed by the movement of Hermione's head, then turned around as well, and he raised an eyebrow at the sight of her. Harry's head remained down, and he was chewing slowly, oblivious.

Well, well, Pansy spat maliciously, standing in front of the group. She stood with one hip cocked out, her hand resting on it confidently. How nice to see the Gryffindor dream team up and running so early in the morning.

Ron scowled at this, his ears flushing red.

Morning, Malfoy, he said maliciously. Finally got those breasts you wanted?

Pansy gasped, outraged. She withdrew her cherrywood wand in an instant.

How dare you insult him! she yelped, raising it into the air and pointing it deftly at the redhead. How insolent! I'll have you know that Draco's male body is quite perfect, unlike yours! Your weight is entirely out of proportion and, and .. maroon looks dreadful on you!

At least I don't dress like some kind of Death Eater .. ehrm .. whore! Ron shouted back, pointing his wand back at her. And .. and your--

Ronald, be quiet, Hermione snapped, agitated by the fight. She turned toward Pansy, frowning gravely. What do you want with us?

she scoffed, glaring at the redhead before shifting her attention to the bushy-haired brunette before her. Her face softened somewhat.

I'm here to have a word, she said loudly, definitely, with Potter!

What did Harry ever do to you, ehh? Ron growled, but it was too late. Harry had turned around moments earlier, and had been watching the scoff blankly, as if in an odd sort of trance. Pansy now spun her head toward him, her lips curling into a sneer at the sight of his face.

she yelped. Do you have anything to say for yourself?

In defense of what? Harry asked uneasily.

Don't fuck with me today, Potter! Pansy spat unpleasantly, her voice high-pitched and dripping with implied warning. I'll only tell you this once - no one, not even you, messes with my Drake!

I didn't do anything to him, Harry said slowly, narrowing his eyes at her. Pansy scowled, her own eyes narrowing dangerously.

Oh, I'm sure, she said, rolling her eyes. Don't play innocent with me, Potter, I know what you did, I know you--

-- must be hungry, so I'm going to fucking leave you alone now, aren't I? said a sleek, infuriated voice from behind her. Pansy raised an elegant eyebrow and turned her head to look behind herself. She paled when she found herself into looking straight into Draco's strained face.

Pansy began, wincing at the murderous look in Draco's silver eyes. Yes, maybe you're right. We'll talk later, Potter, just .. enjoy your .. bacon ..

Harry merely frowned at her, and Pansy turned to look at Draco, a pout on her face. He scowled and grabbed a fistful of her sleeve, tugging her roughly to the side.

Let's go, he hissed at her, and the long-haired girl shrugged as he began to drag her away inch by inch from the Gryffindor table.

Later, ickle Drakey, Ron said maliciously from the table, waving at Pansy cynically as she was pulled away. Instantly her eyes narrowed, and Draco stopped suddenly, his grip on her sleeve slackening.

She leaned her head back, twisting her neck so that she could whisper into his ear.

Just him? she mouthed, then smirked. Draco was still for a second, and then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Pansy's smirk erupted into a full grin, and she drew her eyes back to the Gryffindor table, locking them onto a certain redhead. A moment later, she raised her wand.

She screamed the curse, and Ron froze in his seat, waiting for something terrible to ravage his body - but nothing did. He watched blankly as Pansy laughed maliciously, then turned to walk arm-in-arm with Malfoy back to their respective table.

When he turned back to his breakfast, he saw that everyone around him was staring at him blankly, their jaws slack.

said Ron, a sinking feeling dropping into his stomach. It was then that he felt it - an odd tightness on the top of his head, and a strange heaviness as well, as though his hair were wet. Cautiously, he raised his hands, pressing his fingers onto his scalp.

He heard a tiny crackle, like a foot sinking into snow. His hair was not as it used to be; it was hard, brittle almost, and it seemed to be sticky. He paled, turning to Hermione, whose usually composed face seemed numb with shock.

What did she do to it, Herm? he said bracingly. Hermione closed her mouth, then opened it again, seemingly unable to speak. He frowned further, the sinking feeling deepening. Come on, just tell me. I can take it, I swear.

said Hermione, blinking. Oh, yes, well .. Ronald .. ahh .. here ..

She withdrew her own wand and in a soft flick of her wrist, conjured a small silver hand mirror. She offered it weakly to Ron, who swallowed hard as he took it.

Ron raised the mirror into the air, positioning it first so that he could see his face. He sighed in relief - all was normal. His face was still pale, smooth and full of light freckles. It took a great deal of self-control, however, to pull back the mirror enough to see not just his face, but his hair and neck.

And when he finally did, he screamed.

BLEEDING HELL! he shouted, dropping the mirror. It shattered suddenly over his breakfast, and muttering a few words of sympathy, Hermione dispelled the broken glass with her wand. Ron ignored her as he dug his hands into his hair, tearing at it, trying to make it move or stick up, but it would budge an inch. He whimpered desperately.

Make it go away Hermione, make it go away, he commanded, and she raised her hand to his head, tapping it with her wand. She was still trying out counterspells in vain when Pansy, far over at the Slytherin table, burst suddenly into laughter.

Even Draco, miserable and infuriated as he was, could not resist a tiny smirk.

That slicked-back look never did suit you, she said between fits of giggles, grabbing at her flat stomach. And you can imagine, if it didn't look good on you .. imagine .. well, you don't need to imagine .. how it looks on .. on .. Weasel ..

She broke out laughing again, and Draco calmly took up his firewhiskey, sipping it slowly.

A blonde Weasel, he reflected, his lips twitching, yearning for release into their familiar, full-out smirk. I have to say, Pansy, the hair color stereotype does suit his level of intelligence.

Not just .. blonde! Pansy cried, tearing streaming from her cheeks as she continued to laugh. Blonde .. with hair .. like the twelve year old .. you! Ahahaah! Hah! Blonde .. Weasley .. so .. ahahaha ..

Draco said smoothly. It amuses me, too. I think, in fact, that this has proved to be one of the rare times in life during which you've done something .. clever.

He shook the ice of his goblet lightly with a flick of his wrist, shallowly content. Pansy, still wheezing from her uncontrollable laughter, managed to calm herself enough to turn to him and smile wickedly.

Can't argue with a compliment from you, darling, she grinned, resting her cheek lazily on her hand as she stared at him, raising her eyebrow contemplatively. Draco eyed her back for a long time, the moment fading until suddenly, she once again seemed devilishly suspicious.

he snapped, frowning at her.

Oh, nothing, she sighed. I was just thinking of the day when you'll someday be thanking me for, well .. everything I've done. She finished by quirking her lips and licking them slowly, and Draco scowled.

I highly doubt that, he sneered, but Pansy was giggling again, turning away from him and back to her breakfast. Once she was entirely sure he was not watching her, she narrowed her eyes, letting herself think. Weasel's comment had been avenged, yes, but Potter's idiotic refusal of Draco .. well.

She smirked fully, deciding to herself that it was high time the final stage of the game began.

Harry: ... that's an interesting mental image.

Draco: BWHAHAHAHHAHA! Fucking with the Weasel! I give this chapter a 1, one for that and zero for the rest of the crap!

Harry: I can't get that image out of my head ... Ron with ...

Draco: I think, Rose, that you may have redeemed 0.01 of your dignity in my eyes.

Rose: Awe, thank you precious!

Harry: .... falls over.

Draco: Let's celebrate by drinking firewhiskey, yes?!

Rose: YES!

- Two Hours Later -

Draco: So .. Rose.

Rose: Mmmrph .. ehrm .. wes Drawkor?

Draco: Why don't you tell me where you keep your ... Muggle stamps!? Hahah .. hah .. yes, wouldn't it be fun to tell me that?

Rose: Chhh .. I don't havvve nee .. shtawmps .. Warry! Lesh .. lesh .. zzz.

Harry: Mmm .. kaaai ... wello?

Draco: ... hmm. Pretty wasted, Potter?

Harry: ... mmm'hmmm ...

Draco: Come over here.