- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -

Authoress Ramble: Damn, this was fast.

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 Wednesday morning in the story.

This chapter is dedicated to handshaking

Harry could not think of a day when he had felt more exhausted. Though he tried painfully hard to distract himself all through breakfast, both with food and distant conversations with Ron and Hermione, he simply could not shake the feeling that something had to be done. He imagined that it were the feeling one had when one refused to fulfill a prophecy, and the fates came after you, pressing down into your mind until you went mad from the denial of it.

It make no sense, he thought as he trudged silently with Ron and Hermione toward the dungeons. If it had been anything else, something that added up, he could have handled it. Had Malfoy wanted to kill him, he could have handled it - that made sense, Malfoy was in line to become a Death Eater and he had hated him all of this time, of course he would want him dead. It was the actual thing Malfoy had confessed to wanting that was slowly driving him, now, into a state of restless, pensive denial.

It was so simple to pretend it was a lie when it made such little sense.

Though he hadn't had time to research yet, he felt sure that there was some way around Veritaserum, some Dark magic trick that Malfoy had been taught at some point to use if he were ever questioned. There was that possibility, and then there was the one in which he had misunderstood what Draco had been saying, which he had a bit more faith in. Attraction could mean anything, couldn't it?

After all, one could say that Voldemort himself was to Harry - he loathed him and planned to end his life, certainly an obsession as such could be considered an of sorts. Perhaps Malfoy had only been confessing to wanting him dead.

Though that thought, however simpler it was compared to the alternate possibilities, left him feeling hollow.

They entered the dank hallway leading down to Snape's dungeon, and it was here, from a distance, mingled within the crowd of traveling students, that he saw him. He saw the long sheet of Pansy's hair coupled with the bemused head of Blaise, and then, a few feet away from Pansy, he saw the back of Malfoy, his white-blonde hair swinging silently against his pale neck.

When they drew closer he saw that Pansy was grinning, a wide, brilliant and slightly frightening smile on her face. Blaise seemed to be looking around nervously, and Malfoy had his face tilted down toward the stone floor, his chin-length hair hiding it like a glowing curtain.

There he is, that git, Ron muttered loudly, picking up on the object of Harry's intent stare. He turned toward his friend, grinning and awaiting approval, only to hear Hermione tut disapprovingly next to him.

Be quiet, Ronald, she said hastily, glancing in Malfoy's direction as well. After all, you don't really know Draco, do you? Ron spat, his eyebrow shooting upward. Since when is he Draco? You're off your nut, Mione, everyone knows he's got a family of black sheep. He is and always has been nothing but a miserable, cheating prat-

But Hermione swatted his arm just as he finished, giving him a nasty glare, and Ron sulkily closed his lips, reopening them with a new topic in mind.

Did you study much, Harry? he said instead, rolling his eyes - he was obviously not very much interested in the test that lay ahead of them. Harry made a noncommittal noise, his eyes widening silently.

Draco Malfoy was watching toward him, Pansy and Blaise following curiously in his wake.

Good morning, Potter, he said carelessly, stopping a few feet in front of him. Harry felt his jaw quiver slightly; always in the past, a good morning from Malfoy was as good as an invitation to insult him, always sardonic to the core, but this morning, his voice was level. He had no idea what to say.

At last, Hermione perked up, placing a polite smile on her face.

Good morning, Draco, she said brightly, who turned to her with his silver eyes widened in slight shock, momentarily distracted from Harry. His lips curled in distaste, and he stared at her blankly until she went on.

Did you study for the exam? she said, in the same cheerful, forced tone of voice. Draco continued to stare at her, dumbfounded, for a long moment, and then finally let out a hoarse Hermione said, her smile faltering just a bit. Really, now? You look so tired ... there are circles under your eyes, Draco. What were you doing if you weren't studying?

At this, a redness rose from under Draco's collar. He flashed his eyes briefly toward Harry, his lips twisting down into a scowl, and then back quickly to Hermione, an expression of slight horror on his face.

What are you on about, Granger?! he finally spat, the redness spreading to his cheeks. Hermione, who seemed to have been hoping for a polite response, let her lips twitch back up into the courteous grimace.

Just greeting another student with respect, she said loudly, turning to give a meaningful look to Ron only to find that he seemed to be far more flabbergasted than Draco - his jaw had dropped at her, and he looked a cross between shocked, furious and horribly confused. Hermione hmmph'd and looked away from him.

Well, I'll let you get on with your private word to Harry, she snapped quickly to Draco, and turning to her friend, added, Don't worry, we'll save you a seat. You have the time.

With that, she grabbed Ron's sleeve and dragged him, still mortified, toward the dungeon door.

It slammed shut, and Harry suddenly realized that the other students had filed in before them as well, and that the hall was empty and very, very quiet.

Draco was staring at him, obviously uncomfortable. It seemed to Harry that Draco had, upon approaching him, only wanted a familiar verbal spare, an insult to break the fresh layers of ice between them. Unfortunately, Hermione's considerate conversation had ruined the moment. Now the blonde shoved his hands into his pockets, his face sulky and slightly infuriated at this mistake.

For his part, Harry felt his cheeks redden, as ridiculous as it was. They had both been robbed of their comfortable insults.

Harry said finally, clearing his throat. What were you up all night for?

Draco's silver eyes flashed, and he gave him a purely murderous look before spinning on his heel, storming into the dungeon and slamming the heavy door loudly behind himself.

Harry, watching him go, felt some tiny part of himself briefly sink with disappoint.

Harry could not focus at all on his exam. Every time he lowered his quill, images of Draco's contemptuous, almost betrayed look flashed across the back of his eyes, followed quickly by snippets of Hermione's sugared voice: Did you study for the exam? You look so tired ... get on with your private word to Harry ...

As ironic as it was, Hermione's completely random display of courtesy toward someone who had called her a Mudblood for the past five years (he still couldn't understand it, but assumed it had something to do with showing up Ron) had given him a very strange and uncomfortable idea.

Perhaps when he had said that he was attracted to him, he had really meant that he ... that he wanted to be friends with him.

It was possible, wasn't it? After all, Malfoy couldn't have meant ... well, what he would have assumed had someone like Cho said that ... and this new idea didn't give him the sinking feeling that the idea of Malfoy hating him did. This interpretation, it seemed, fit in many ways.

He had to at least give the idea some thought, he reasoned. The idea of talking to Malfoy politely in the hall seemed very possible, as Hermione had just demonstrated it for him. But eating with him at breakfast? Chatting happily over Quidditch? Sipping butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks? A playful game of chess?

All the normal things he did with Ron and Hermione seemed slightly ridiculous when their images were replaced with Malfoy, especially as in his imagination he had to make the normally surly boy laugh, smile and talk cheerfully. Harry was doubtful that this was what Malfoy wanted.

But meetings to study in the secret room ...

Harry admitted that he could handle that.

He leaned back in his chair, slightly pleased with himself now that he had worked this all through. He grinned a little, letting his mind relax ... and decided to amuse himself with an imaginative skit of their future friendship.

Let's go inside, Harry! said an overly zealous, smiling Draco Malfoy. He was dressed in a black mink cloak with his hands buried into a furry pouf, an image which made the real Harry snigger.

Sure, Mal... Draco, said the hypothetical-Harry. Harry let his lips twitch; he'd messed up his own made-up fantasy.

Draco removed a hand from his pouf in order to pull open the heavy door of Honeydukes, revealing the sweet-smelling air and pleasant heat of the huge candy store. He disappeared inside, holding open the door for Harry. Moments later they were browsing the store side-by-side, laughing at all the oddities they found and occasionally picking up items to buy.

I'll take care of this, Harry, said the pretend-Draco happily, pulling out a huge sack of gold. Draco was rich, wasn't he?

Okay then, said the dream-Harry. He watched as Draco paid, and then the two walked out of the store together. Big, white snowflakes fell slowly around them.

These are yours, Draco said, handing him a bag. And these are mine. He smiled as he held up a small, but stuffed, bag. I'm going to try one now, okay?

The dream-Harry nodded, and Draco opened the bag only to pull out a large, round cherry-red lollipop. He peeled the wrapping from it slowly, his eyes flashing mischievously at Harry.

Watch this, Harry, he said quietly, and then he slipped the red lollipop between his pale lips, sucking on it slowly. Harry caught small glimpses of his flicking pink tongue as he slid the lollipop in, then out, then back in again.

The dream-Harry faded away, and suddenly he was watching through his own eyes as Draco slid the lollipop into his mouth further, he thought, than most people would have a mind to. His silver eyes blinked and finally closed, the snowflakes settling into his hair and eyelashes as he went on, pulling the candy over his red-stained lips, his cheeks flushed from his cold, opening his mouth wider to let it slip in further, his lips sliding tightly over ...

... Potter!

Harry blinked, startled, as he snapped back into reality.

he said dumbly, suddenly realizing that he was in potions, taking his test, and that Snape's beady black eyes were locked on him from the lower end of the classroom. He swallowed hard, flushing as he realized that all around him, students were filing out the doors.

The exam is over, Potter, Snape spat. He hesitated, clearly debating in his mind whether he wanted to give Harry detention or force him out of his classroom immediately. Apparently, he decided on the latter.

Get on with it! Snape hissed, tapping his fingers impatiently against his desk. Harry stood clumsily, gathering up his bookbag and carrying the test to Snape's desk. He snatched it rudely, staring down menacingly at his student.

You may go, Snape said icily. Harry nodded, his mind still in a confused rush, and turned around to do just that before an idea struck him. To his teacher's disgust, he turned back around a moment later, opening his mouth immediately.

Professor Snape, I have a question, Harry said hurriedly, before Snape could command him to leave. Is there any way to escape the effects of Veritaserum? I mean ...Of course there isn't, Potter, Snape snapped. That's why we use it in criminal investigations, we wouldn't if there were ways around it. Now if you-Not even dark magic? Harry added suddenly. Snape's scowl darkened, his pale face growing steadily more flushed.

No, Potter, there is no way around it, Snape spat out in disgust. He paused, then, suddenly, as something seemed to strike him. You know, Potter .. I had a bottle of Veritaserum stolen just a few days ago ...

Bad idea to ask him, bad, bad, terrible idea.

Oh .. really? Harry breathed. Snape nodded gravely, the look on his face reminiscent of someone longing to reach out and strangle your throat.

That's a pity, he said, swallowing hard to control the shaking in his voice. Well, I'm sure that you're very busy, Professor, thank you ...

Harry grimaced and then turned, walking quickly up the stairs toward the doors. He let his breath out in a long sigh as he shut them safely behind him, his hands shaking slightly from nervousness. If Snape ever found evidence of that ...

But that wasn't the point right now, was it? The more pressing issue here now was that Malfoy had, whatever he had meant, been speaking the absolute truth.

Harry knew, suddenly, what it was he had to do. He looked down the hallway to his left - Hermione and Ron had already left, and he couldn't blame them, as he knew how Hermione loathed being late for any class. He looked up the hall directly in front of him, hoping ...

And then he saw them, nearly rounding the corner up ahead. The sleek silhouette of Draco Malfoy, his hair a shifting silver ball, surrounded by his two friends.

Harry paused for a second, then ran, his bag swinging at his side, after them.

he called loudly, panting. Wait ... hey ... Malfoy!

He watched as Draco, several yards ahead of him, suddenly froze only to turn around slowly, cautiously, a moment later. Pansy and Blaise had stopped at their friend's side. Before he knew it, Harry had gained on them, and stopped in front of Malfoy, his breath coming in short gasps.

Can I .. have .. a word? he asked quickly. Next to Malfoy, Pansy grinned widely, nodding vigorously as Draco's lips dropped down into a deep frown. She pulled Blaise aside and dragged him, quite cheerfully, around the corner.

Malfoy stated, his voice cold, but beneath that, slightly puzzled.

Harry said awkwardly. He wasn't sure at all how he would voice this - any way he put it, it sounded terribly pathetic - but it was now inevitable. He only hoped that Malfoy would hear him out. Listen ... said Malfoy, frowning unsteadily.

Harry began, his voice shaking, I thought about this a lot, and I was ... wondering. I mean, if you'd like ...Spit it out, Potter, Malfoy whispered.

Let's be .. friends, Harry said, spitting out the final word as quickly as possible. He opened his mouth to amend this, but then closed it, deciding to hold his rambling tongue until Malfoy had properly reacted.

He didn't. He stood there, his sharp silver eyes widening and then suddenly narrowing, glaring at him suspiciously. Slowly, Harry extended his hand.

Harry offered.

Malfoy continued to stare at him, obviously incredulous. It wasn't until after thirty long seconds had passed that he offered his pale, manicured hand in return.

he said quietly, wrapping his fingers around those of Harry.

Though he could not describe it properly in words, Harry felt at that moment, as Malfoy's hand folded into his, that the nagging guilt of the fates had vanished.

Draco: What the hell? Friends? FRIENDS? I would NEVER ---

Ms. Rose: Oh look! Harry's home! Welcome back, dearie!

Draco: ... Harry? Hey! Did you get the stamps?!

Harry: Yeah yeah, hear you go - hands stamps to Draco - and Rose, could you help me put these whipped cream tubs in the fridge, I could really use a --

Draco: AHAHAHA, foolish Rose! I am now in possession of my key to FREEDOM, the vital tool needed for Muggle communication processes! I will now secure my rescue from this scathing rot of hell!

Harry: Oh, oops .. I don't think those are international.

Draco: ... international?

Harry: You need a different kind of stamp. Those are only good for use in the United States.

Draco: WHAT?! But I haven't got the address of the American Ministry!

Harry: Sorry, love ... I'll pick some up the next time I go shopping.

Draco: When will that be? Tomorrow?

Ms. Rose: Oh no, I'd say that this supply of whipped cream should last you two at least ... five weeks!

Draco: ... death is always an option.

Ms. Rose: Don't be silly, pet, no one with a great sex life wants to snuff themselves.

Draco: ... I think I need some time alone.

Harry: Coming!