- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -
Authoress Ramble: I have not updated in like .. forever. Meh, between high school, work and my vacations to New Jersey, it's been so hard to find the time! But at least ... a new chapter has finally arrived. I'm looking forward to writing the next ones, they're going to be super fun. I am a naughty little girl, aren't I? Please enjoy the chapter!
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 evening in the story.
This chapter is dedicated to ALL MY REVIEWERS!
Muah muah, love you darlings!
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For the first time in the entirety of his life, Draco was grateful for the Weasel.
The redhead-turned-helmet-haired-blonde had, as sourly as he hated to admit it, been the saving grace of the day. Each time his eyes wandered of their own accord to Potter, piercing the delicate lines of his face only to soften seconds later, the Weasel seemed to pop in, stopping the moment from becoming revealing and painful.
Yes, the freckled blonde's jeers, sneers and occasional middle finger rather saved his day. He could not glimpse at him without being reminded constantly, by his infuriated best friend, of his place in his life. He was his enemy, he was the one who would deal torture, deal ridicule, until they separately indefinitely. He was the predictable rival, cruel and secure.
Staring at Potter alone made him forget that. It made him remember the words that spilled from his mouth, the confession he could not bear to accept having made, and it recalled in his mind the response, the lush verbal expression of hate, sharp words pouring one after another from the mouth he had kissed the week earlier in a moment of delirium. He could not forget the way the words had torn at his emotional plexus, and the way they gnawed away at him now.
Until he saw the Weasel, with his rock-hard bleached head. The corners of his lips quirked up then, and he remembered rather cynically how it had once been. He recalled how simple, how incredibly easy it had been to be free to hate in return.
You seem pensive, Draco, Pansy said silkily, turning her head from her books to look up at him with a fragile smirk. She was kneeling on the floor, her work spilled across the glass table that sat before the sofa on which he sat. He raised an eyebrow at her warningly; he knew what she wanted.
She wanted to know what he was thinking, and he would have none of it.
she hummed, waiting. When he did not respond she began to pout, dropping her quill and crawling toward him, her hair spilling messily down her back.
Get away from me, he snapped, raising his foot as though ready to kick her side. Her smirk deepened, and she straightened her back, tilting her head slightly to the side.
You're distraught, I can always tell, she declared subtlety, and to his horror bent back down only to cross her forearms over his knee, resting her chin deftly on her wrists and looking up at him patiently. He sneered, bouncing his knee suddenly and forcing her back up.
she shrieked, stumbling to a stand and pouting down at him angrily. I think you made me bite my tongue!I didn't realize you were capable of such a thing, Draco spat, looking at her with displaced rage in his eyes.
Pansy scoffed, her pout deepening into a frustrated scowl. Fine, you be that way! Just be the prick you're expected to be! It isn't my fault that he did - well, whatever stupid thing it was that he did! Go take it up with him, not your friends!I never want to talk to that fucking arsehole again, Draco mumbled under his breath, his hands writhing in his lap. It will be excruciating enough just having to look at him for the next year and a half.In that case save yourself some excruciation and talk with him, Pansy huffed, placing a hand defiantly on her hip. He's a smart boy, I'm sure he can be convinced with a little bit of sweet talk.Sweet talk? Draco choked in disbelief, his voice rising. Sweet talk?! I'll show that fucking git sweet talk! I'll take his wand and shove it up his-I thought so, the girl said, sighing dramatically. You know, dearest, at this rate you'll never be together. One of you is going to have to give in.Fuck that ever happening, the blonde mumbled, curling his hands into fists that sat on his knees. And it sure as fuck wouldn't be me.I'm getting that idea, Pansy droled sarcastically.
Just fuck off, Pansy, Draco snapped, scowling. He looked up, meeting her eyes savagely. Go help someone who wants it.
The long-haired girl gasped, outraged. She narrowed her eyes, lifting her hand off her hip only to point at him rudely.
I think I will! she shrieked, stabbing her finger in his general direction. At this several of the other Slytherins occupying the common room turning their heads curiously, some smirking at the familiar scene. BLAISE! We are not wanted here! Blaise said, lifting his head from his Transfiguration textbook.
Come along, friend Blaise! We're going to your dormitory to chat, seeing as DRACO HERE wants to be alone. Draco spat harshly, earning another loud from Pansy's twisted lips. Blaise frowned, slightly confused, and began packing up his things.
You mark my words, Drake! the long-haired girl yelped as she began to walk away, Blaise in tow, One of these days, you'll be kissing my arse in gratitude for all the things I've done!If I haven't blown it off! he hissed.
Mark my words! Mark them, darling!
She pointed at him dramatically again, her face flushed red with anger, and turned to begin walking swiftly toward the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Blaise followed her numbly, glancing between her back and Draco's infuriated face several times before regretfully disappearing behind her.
Draco spat sourly, alone at last, his hands still writhing in frustration and surpressed anger. Always so fucking optimistic. Ron yelped, grinning widely and lifting his head to look up cheerfully at his friend. He lurched his bishop across three squares, landing it just one away from Harry's white king, which inched away warily.
Harry, his green eyes half-hidden under his thick, dark hair, blinked and continued to stare blankly at the space between his feet.
Ron prompted, frowning. He tilted his head to the side, waiting a long moment before turning around to look up doubtfully at Hermione. Her lips twitched downward, and she closed her book quietly, turning sad eyes on her friend.
Harry had been acting strangely ever since last night. After Pansy's rant-cut-short at this morning's breakfast, he had been eerily quiet, a sharp contrast to Ron's almost constant ravings against Malfoy and his female sidekick. Every attempt to rouse Harry into agreeing with him, every prompt he threw out to get Harry to help him plot revenge against the Slytherins, was met with neutral comments and downcast looks. Ronald had eventually given up, putting his anger aside long enough for a bit of homework and a friendly game of chess - but even that had not improved his somber mood.
Hermione sighed a little, shrugging her shoulders at Ron, who frowned and turned away. She couldn't be sure, of course, what the problem was, but she had narrowed it down to one of two things. The first possibility was that they'd fought - no stretch of the imagination was needed there. It explained Pansy being irritated with Harry, as everyone knew she was horribly protective of Malfoy. And yet, Hermione's mind drifted more keenly toward the second possibility.
Harry was depressed that he had to keep his lover, his relationship - and in fact, an important aspect of himself - hidden. He'd had a terrible childhood, one in which his very individuality had been rejected. She knew that he probably thought it was necessary to hide his sexuality in order to keep the acceptance of those around him, even his closest friends.
She twisted her fingers together absently, hoping that he would feel comfortable enough to come to herself and Ron soon enough. Even if he left his relationship with Malfoy out of the confession, it was an important step, and one that she was sure would help him to be more content. She would try her best to show her support for Harry, if only indirectly.
Your move, Harry, Ron said loudly, coughing a little after saying his name. Harry blinked again, lifting his head up slowly, his lips parted as though he had been surprised. You're in check. Harry said absently. He reached out, moving his king a square toward himself and then withdrawing his hand immediately, appearing not to have thought much about the move at all. Ron's face twisted as though he were ill.
he began, his jaw dropping a little. You sure about that move? Harry grunted, turning his eyes toward the fire. Hermione was certain, she noted sadly, that he had not so much as glanced at the chessboard.
But you're still in check, Ron protested, wincing slightly. Does that mean you give up?I guess it does, Harry replied dully. Ron's eyes widened with surprise, and he paled a little, shocked.
You can redo your move if you want, I wouldn't mind--It's fine. You win, Harry said, almost bitterly, as though he were speaking to someone else entirely. The flames of the dying common room fire dancing in his eyes, strangely slow in the deep emerald orbs. Good game, Ron.But Harry--It's okay, Hermione interjected immediately, not wanting it to go on. She felt for Harry, and knew that pretending to be interested in something he disliked strained him greatly. She needed the change to encourage him to open up anyhow, and what better time than when they were all gathered together in the common room, alone and relaxed? Let's just talk.Fine, we can talk, sulked Ron, slightly annoyed that he'd been cheated out of a chess game. Let's talk about the revenge we have yet to plan against Malfoy and his little tag-along! I've been mentioning it all day, and no one-You know, that reminds me, Hermione began loudly, speaking over Ron's words. I've been reading the most interesting book about Slytherins lately.Oh, have you? Ron snapped. Does it say how they're best murdered and prepared for dinner, because otherwise-No Ronald, it's actually a book entitled Three Hundred Good-Hearted Slytherins of the Past Three Centuries, and it's about Slytherin students who've ended up doing good things for the wizarding world, she finished sharply, narrowing her eyes at him.
I see, seethed Ron quietly. Why don't you tell us about one, Hermione?Thank you, Ronald, she said, glaring at him as she reopened the book that had been sprawled across her lap. I think I will! You know, a witch named Neera Magdellen, graduated 1757, went on to invent potions that eased the pain of childbirth without eliminating feeling within the woman's body.Probably to encourage purebloods like the Malfoys to have as many heirs as possible, the redhead snapped, scowling. I swear to Merlin, Slytherins will go to any length to populate the wizarding world with their-They aren't all bad, Ronald! Hermione shrieked. She jerked her head toward Harry, locking her chocolate eyes with his slightly alarmed ones as she spoke. They're people, Ron, just like us, and everyone has the free will to choose whether they want to fill their life with love or hate. Malfoy may have been raised to follow a certain path, but that doesn't mean that he necessarily has to choose-Please, Hermione, Ron said in disgust, sneering. I think we all know what side Malfoy is on. I mean, look at the way that arsehole's been treating us all this time, it's obvious that-Will you just shut the bloody hell up about MALFOY already?! Harry shouted suddenly, jumping unsteadily to his feet. Ron's mouth snapped shut immediately, and Hermione's hung open, slack with utter shock.
All day it's been fuck Malfoy this, fuck Malfoy that, well I'm fucking sick of hearing about him! I don't care what happens to him, I don't care if he gets what he deserves or if he goes on to be rich and spoiled until the day he dies, I just don't CARE anymore! he raged. As he finished his breathing was heavy, and he was almost panting. I don't want to hear another word about him! Hermione began weakly, but was immediately silenced.
Not another word, Harry hissed, grabbing his bookbag roughly and swinging it over his shoulder. He gave both of his friends dirty looks before rushing toward the stairs to the boys' dormitories, his footsteps thundering as he climbed them.
Hermione swallowed nervously as she watched him go, writhing her hands uncomfortably. She turned to Ron a minute later, her face pale and startled.
I just don't know what to say to him, Ron, she whispered, blinking her eyes slowly. I can't read how he feels, and I don't know what happened to cause this ...It must have been Malfoy, the redhead spat bitterly.
Hermione merely sighed.
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Are you insane?! Blaise hissed, his eyes widening in disbelief. His bag slid from his shoulder as they slackened, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Pansy rolled her eyes, gesturing dismissively at him.
Be quiet, won't you? she said with exasperation, drawing her wand and sealing the room with quick silence charms. Really darling, do you want the whole House to hear about this? It's a secret plan!It's the most senile plan I've ever fucking heard! he yelped, gesturing wildly and beginning to pace aimlessly around the protected dormitory. It's just bloody madness! Draco doesn't want .. doesn't want .. that!Oh trust me, precious, he does, Pansy said smugly. His heart is just begging for it, and his body too, I'm sure, but you know Draco. He has to keep up the straight and narrow family image, always the elegant bastard.That's impossible, Blaise insisted stubbornly. His body wants .. well .. people like you!Thank you dear but no, that's entirely incorrect, she smiled. You know that Draco could have the pick of the Slytherin female litter, but he's distanced himself quite far from those possibilities.But Draco's never said anything-Would he? Pansy continued. Come on Blaise, use your mind! He wears fluffy sweaters, for Merlin's sake.They're not fluffy, Blaise winced. They're chenille! Pansy said slowly, mouthing out the word. Blaise paled, his gestures slowing as years of Italian hair gel, Chanel perfumes and snug-fitting, expensive clothes caught up with him.
All right, fine then, Blaise admitted hesitantly. Assuming that Draco is indeed .. ehrm .. not straight .. why the hell would you pick Potter? Why him of all people? Draco loathes him!Mmm, yes he does, and so very, very much, Pansy purred, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. There's a thin line separating hate like that from something more, and darling, he's crossed it.Even if they fucked, it wouldn't last, Blaise spat, paling as his words hit him, forming an uncomfortable mental image. It was several seconds before he continued. You know that it can't, Pansy. There are fundamental differences there! That and .. lifestyle differences .. different futures ..Never assume that things will happen, Pansy pointed out darkly.
But .. their personalities! Blaise yelped, not liking at all where their conversation was heading.
Perfect compliments, she sighed happily, clasping her hands together. When night and day combine, they make a sunrise!Or a sunset, her friend frowned, darting his narrowed eyes around the room.
Just trust me on this, if you can't see it just yet, Pansy ordered, a smile spreading across her sharp features. They want each other. The problem is that neither one will admit it, because they're both so fucking stubborn and proud. Obviously, some intervention is required ..What kind of intervention are we talking about? Blaise said doubtfully, walking over to his bed and sitting down on it heavily. Pansy followed him, sitting cross-legged on the bed across from him, her face in her hands.
she said, smiling proudly, for of course it was ingenious,This is something that Draco would never do himself. No amount of encouragement could get him to make the first move. And naturally, Potter would think we were full of shit if we approached him.What are you suggesting? Blaise said suspiciously, his eyes narrowing further. Are you saying we cast the Impervius curse on him? Because you know that Draco's had loads of training to overcome something like that.No, no, not that, Pansy said dismissively, as though insulted. You know how Draco quit the Quidditch team? Blaise said bitterly, his face darkening. Damn shame too, I don't know why he had to go and do it. He was one of our best, and our new seeker can't compare in the least. We're screwed with Potter still-And who knows about this? Pansy continued, interrupting him. Blaise paused, staring at her for a moment before answering.
You, me, the team, the other Slytherins, I guess, I know it's gotten around, Blaise said uncomfortably. Everyone's been too afraid to harass Draco about it, but they know.And the Gryffindors? Pansy continued almost absently.
None of the other Houses know, Blaise said, smirking a little. We're going to let everyone just be surprised at the game on Saturday. Gryffindor's strategy will be fucked, they plan it so much around winning over Draco. It's our only chance to beat them, really.So no one knows! Pansy declared, grinning.
Blaise nodded, frowning a little, frightened at what was coming.
she purring, leaning toward him with wide eyes, eyes alive with anticipation. Now that you recall that, darling, here's our plan. We're going to steal a bit of Draco's hair off of one of his sweaters, and then I'm going to use black market polyjuice potion to transform myself into him, play as Slytherin seeker during the game, end it quickly and then seduce Potter-YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING--in the locker room showers! Once Potter melts into my arms as Draco he'll have to admit his feelings for him, and once Draco knows that Potter wants him just as badly he'll feel like he has the upperhand! Then he'll make a move and then they'll be together for-KIDDING ME! Blaise screamed, jumping off the bed and walking toward her. Do you know how many different ways that could go wrong?! One, it's illegal to disguise a player as another in Quidditch, two, you suck at the game and you'd fuck the game over to Gryffindor, three, Draco will MURDER US BOTH, fourth-Oh for Merlin's sake, dear, don't be so pessimistic, Pansy argued contentedly. Everything will go just as planned, and then our delightful Drake will be happy at last. She sighed dramatically, twirling her hair between her fingers. And that's the point of everything, after all. Draco deserves that kind of love.It's going to blow up in your face, Blaise snapped.
Our faces, darling, Pansy grinned, patting gently on the bed. He reluctantly approached her, sitting down with a quiet flop.
I never said I would help you, he said stubbornly, frowning darkly.
Don't you want Draco to be happy? she purred, sliding her hand up and down his arm soothingly.
Not this much, Blaise scowled, though his lips twitched a little at the action, and he did not pull away from her.
Well, look at this way, she said cheerfully, her lips lifting into a gentle smile. Once we finish helping Draco find love, we can focus more on our own love lives.Sounds depressing, he spat, adverting his eyes.
We could also get some firewhiskey and celebrate our pretty asses off, Pansy smirked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. A fitting reward for all our charity! Blaise hummed, considering, though again his lips twitched as though resisting a smile.
Pansy laughed, rubbing her hands together smoothly over her lap. It would work, of course, as all her brilliant plans did, and it would go off without a hitch. This time next week, her most beloved blonde friend would be curled up naked in the arms of their green-eyed enemy.
She sighed happily, turning to Blaise with warm eyes. What better image could a woman ask for?
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Harry: Draco, what the hell are you eating?
Draco: A Krispy Kreme donut. My life fucking sucks.
Harry: Didn't you have one a few hours ago? You're going to get fat!
Draco: I don't care. I surrender, I surrender to the captivity! I may as well enjoy as many calories as I can.
Harry: Give me that donut.
Draco: No, fuck off. Your hope sickens me.
Harry: GIVE ME THE DONUT.
Draco: NEVER! It's mine, get your own! HEY! NOT THAT!
Harry: What's in this glass? ...what the hell! You can't have vodka with a DONUT!
Draco: I told you, I'm depressed! Now give it back! I'm fucking thirsty!
Harry: I won't let you do this to yourself! Jesus Christ, pull yourself together!
Draco: Oh, the irony .. beautiful me, alone with alcohol and sugar-flavored balls of saturated fat ...
Harry: You live with me, you know.
Draco: Woe is me ... ROSE!
Rose: What is it, precious? More vodka? More cream-filled goodness?
Draco: No, I'm fine .. but fetch this poor, disillusioned soul a glass of absolute. He will drown himself in sorrow with me, and together we will rot into oblivion.
Rose: Okay, darling!
Harry: sigh Do you have jelly-filled?
