- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -

Authoress Ramble: I like this chapter, oddly enough. It's a good chapter, it gives me some hope for the next one, which should hopefully be even more... entertaining. I've been pretty depressed lately .. hard times .. but at least you all can still have your H&D fix. Aren't we all just waiting and waiting for that happy ending, even when the chapters are long and difficult? Ahh, I'm so clever.

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 evening in the story.

This chapter is dedicated to never, never giving up on love

Draco slammed his door with so much force that it rattled, the wood seemingly on the verge of shattering apart. Next to it, Pansy winced as air blew her curtain of hair to the side, her lips twisted into a sarcastic frown. Blaise coughed uncomfortably into his hand.

Just who the fuck does he think he is? Draco screamed, throwing his hands into the air. He paused just long enough to grab the strap of his bag and swing it ten feet across the room, where it hit the wall and slid down to the floor, before throwing himself face-down on the bed. He curled his fingers tightly into his pillows, grumbling incoherently.

Oh, sweet, Pansy said sympatheticly, coming up behind him to stand proudly at his bedside. She pat his tousled hair ackwardly, ignoring the growling that suddenly errupted from the face in the pillows. This isn't really so bad.

Draco mumbled something angrily about this, and Pansy swore she heard the word along with a few other choice obsenities. She smoothed his hair more insistantly now, tuttering her disapproval.

Yeah, I mean, Blaise began hesitantly. Friends with Potter. That could be useful to us, couldn't it?Shut up, Blaise, Pansy snapped ruefully. She sat down, now, on Draco's bed, turning her hair-patting into a calming shoulder massage. Mumbling could still be heard from the pillows, but it was less furious now.

Let's not be angry, precious, she began carefully, pressing her fingers expertly down into the base of his throat. We shouldn't over-react until we've properly analyzed just why Potter has done this. Now, I know that you and Potter had a bit of a fight-

Draco turned his head so that he faced the room once again, his eyes narrow slits beneath his tangled hair.

We didn't fight, he said lowly. His eyes glinted from Pansy to Blaise, who coughed once again. he said, jerking his head toward the latter, Leave, now.

Blaise nodded, looking a bit grateful as he slipped out the door. Pansy, still at his bedside, was grinning widely, excited at the confession she knew was coming.

Didn't you? But you came home so infuriated that nightIf you tell anyone, I'll murder you in your sleep, Draco whispered harshly. Pansy nodded eagerly, learning forward to hear the low murmuring of his enraged voice. Potter ...What did he do? Pansy asked excitedly.

Shut up! Draco snapped. His lips twisted into a scowl, and he rolled his eyes, pulling himself up on his elbows. His hair hung low over his face, obscuring it behind the white silk curtain. Potter brought Veritaserum to one of our meetings. He shoved it down my throat and I said that I ...Oh Merlin, Pansy gasped, covering her shocked, paling face with her hand. You told him that you're madly in love with him and want to be his boyfriend, that you want to get him in your bed and ravage his- Draco nearly screamed, and Pansy closed her lips obediantly. No, sodding hell, god no. I don't want to .. boyfriend .. no.All right, fine, Pansy amended quickly. So what did you say, then?That I was attracted to him.

Pansy grimanced at this, clearly torn between breaking out into a huge smile and frowning, as would be appropriate in pleasing Draco. The end result was a twitching tilt of her lips, her eyes flashing happily.

she said finally, clearing her throat of all emotion, That's a little vauge, but oddly to the point. How did Potter react?He thought I was joking, Draco spat bitterly. He settled himself back down, sulking into the pillows once again. He let the fingers of one hand curl tightly into his silk pillowcase, straining the delicate fabric.

What do you mean, joking? Pansy said, turning her nose up into the air and scowling. You can't tell a joke when you're under Veritaserum, the most you can do is answer questions like an inhumanly honest zombie, everyone knows that you can't-Well he did, Draco growled. He kept screaming at me to drop the act, and when I didn't he took a good five minutes telling me how deeply he hated me and why. Pansy said, her lips pulling into a puzzled frown. And now-After a few days of ignoring me completely, Draco mumbled.

He wants to be friends? she finished, bringing a hand up to her hip and rolling her eyes. You know, darling, that makes no sodding sense. If he loathes you so much then why the hell would he-How the fuck would I know? the blonde snapped. You're the one who wanted to analyze Potter. Stop rambling and get to it.

Pansy's frown deepened, and she adverted her eyes to the ceiling, sighing heavily before returning them to her friend. By this point Draco had turned his face back into the pillow, obscuring his expression, his body strangely still.

Right then, she began quietly. Well. It's obvious that Potter is trying to solve the situation somehow, well, you know, not really solve it, just make it easy on himself. You'd think that wanting to become your friend would make everything ten times as confusing, but maybe to Potter, it means demoting you from being a person he's obsessed with, if only through anger and hate, to someone he feels nothing toward. Draco sneered, his voice muffled by the pillows. I'll send him some every-flavor beans at Christmas, then, and we can call it a life.

Pansy sighed, patting his shoulder lightly.

Well, if that's what you really want to do, sweet cake.

There was a long pause then, one in which she compulsively smoothed the back of his robes and he laid still, breathing slowly in and out until finally, in one sudden movement, he swept himself up and turned to face her.

Of course, he began, his words trembling slightly from both anger and hesitation, That's not what I want to do. You know what I want to do, Pansy? I want to march into Gryffindor Tower, shove him against the wall, punch his face in and then shove a leather-bound copy of Straight Days, Queer Nights: A Helpful Guide for Wizards Still Closeted up his tight little ass.

Pansy blinked, staring at him with wide, stunned eyes until, after another long moment, her face broke into a bright smile.

You still have that, darling? she said proudly, beaming. Did you read it? The man at the bookstore said that-I obviously loved it if I'm willing to shove it up Potter's bum, Draco scowled, narrowing his eyes warningly.

Pansy ignored him, sighing happily and clutching at her chest. She continued to smile, looking down at Draco as though she were looking at a child who had just said his first word.

And by the way, dear, what you said about Potter's arse, she began quickly, her smiling turning suddenly devilish, Did you mean tight in a psychological sense or tight as in ...I meant he's being a jerk-off, yes, Draco hissed, drawing himself up and glaring at her, his cheeks burning.

Do you mean a jerk-off as in a jerk or as in someone you'd like to... he barked, baring his white teeth as he crossed his arms, a sulk clearly returning to his features. Pansy laughed quietly before coughin in a sudden attempt to control herself, settling herself back onto his bed.

She grinned, patting his thigh consolingly.

You know, seriously, she began, holding back her glee, I don't know if punching him and forcing literature up his unmentionables would help things, but I do happen to agree with the first bit of what you intend to do.Ehrm, what was that, Draco mumbled, turning to look at her suspicously.

Storming the Gryffindor Tower! Pansy yelled, throwing a fist into the air cheerfully. She smiled as she lowered it, her eyes glowing with mischief. Because you know, darling, when has doing the exact opposite of what Potter wants ever been the wrong course of action?

Draco seemed to think about this, his nose wrinkling with mild interest.

You're saying that the thing Potter would hate the most would be me invading his space? he asked, eying Pansy with dark curiosity.

Pansy giggled, biting her lip as she leaned closer.

she whispered. I think the thing Potter would hate the most would be you following through with the whole handshake bullshit.You mean ...I mean that you and Potter need to be friends, she beamed, licking her lips happily. You need to be very, very good friends with Potter.

Harry glanced at the clock over the fireplace desperately, hoping to whatever gods there were that it was late enough to pretend he couldn't physically bear to go on with his work. He began to yawn very loudly just in case, but was crushed when he realized that it was just around seven-thirty, hardly a time for bed.

He sighed loudly instead.

Next to him, Ron frowned and crossed out something with his quill, nibbling distractedly on his bottom lip. Across from the two of them was Hermione, who was humming contently as she read her Transfiguration textbook, reviewing the current lesson before attempting the paper that was due in ten days.

He glanced again. Seven thirty-one.

He turned his eyes back down to his Potions essay. He'd written three sentences in approximately the last twenty-five minutes, and even those had been mostly copied from his textbook, and poorly paraphrased at that.

He began to trace over his last word with his quill. It seemed to him that the night would go on for an eternity, and all he wanted in the entire world was the chance to go up to bed, to sleep and continue on to the next day, to speed things up a little. After all, it wasn't as if any pleasing things were happening to him. The most he had were disturbing thoughts he was too edgy to even consider and the homework he couldn't focus on for a sodding second. He needed it to be eleven or so, because then he could yawn and say that ...

He blinked, his eyes lifting almost on their own at the sound of a commotion near the portrait hole. Several people near it were openly gaping, standing around it in a messy semi-circle that blocked most of the entrance from Harry's view, and the room was steadily filling with the buzz of excited chatter. Somewhere, he distinctly heard a book fall to the floor.

What is it? Hermione asked, turning toward the portrait hole and frowning. Ron glanced up as well, distracted, his eyes wide but blank.

he asked, but at that exact moment, the small crowd cleared aside, and Harry's jaw fell weakly open.

Thank you, Draco announced loudly, dumping the struggling first year he'd been carrying around by the collar unceremoniously onto a large, overstuffed armchair. He quivered, looking up at the blonde in horror. I would have never guessed that password without your assistance.

The boy didn't have time to respond, because already he had turned away from him, his silver eyes locked on Harry as he began to walk brazenly toward their table, his long Slytherin-crested robes billowing conspiciously behind him.

Harry dropped his quill, his jaw still embarrassingly slack because ...

What the sodding hell was he doing here?
What the bleeding hell did he want and why,
Why was smiling like that?

Draco smirked down at Harry, who decided immediately that it was very creepy, setting his mouth into a strict frown as best he could.

Why are you here, Malfoy, he began shakily, torn between the familiar bitter insults of the past and the friendship he knew he'd stupidly promised.

Draco began dramaticly, drawing himself up to full height and shifting the books under his arm into full view, Pansy has fallen ill, unfortunately, and has taken to bed, and Blaise, well, Blaise is a moron.That's unfortunate, Harry answered rigidly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron tense, glancing between himself and Malfoy eagerly, waiting for the argument to occur. Hermione had quietly closed her book. But what does it have to do with you being here?Well, you see, the blonde spoke silkily, bending down to lock his eyes into his, They're my only real Slytherin friends, and now, I have no one to help me with my Transfiguration homework. Harry began, but Ron beat him to it, scowling at the boy before him.

See McGonagall if you're too dumb to get the lesson, Malfoy, he spat, glaring daggers at his long-time enemy. Draco, for his part, smiled grimly.

Why see a teacher when I could just as easily come here, he began languidly, And be helped by you, Harry?

Harry swallowed hard. He wasn't sure what Malfoy was trying to pull, but he was suddenly regretting his decision not to inform Ron and Hermione about his choice to call a truce between himself and Malfoy.

Why would Harry want to help you? Ron spat, and inwardly Harry felt the panic rising. Draco was going to tell them now - oh sodding hell, this would be very difficult to explain.

Why, because, Ronald, Draco smiled, his expression brightening as he viewed the shock that suddenly froze the green-eyed boy's face, Harry and I are friends now. Aren't we, Harry?Malfoy ... Harry began warningly, but he knew it was too late.

We made the truce just today, after Potions, Draco explained cheerfully, much too cheerfully, to Ron and Hermione. She raised her eyebrows critically, while Ron looked just short of vomiting over his parchment.

Really then, Hermione offered at most, her voice a curious, but shocked none the less, whisper. Ron was growing steadily pink in the ears, his quill shaking in his hands.

You can't be serious! he snapped suddenly, turning his eyes frantically from Harry to Draco, then back to Harry again. The brunette flushed, frowning and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Jokes can wait until after our homework, Draco announced dryly, a wicked smile on his face as he dumped his bookbag unceremonioiusly on the floor next to Harry's chair. He Accio'd a chair from a nearby table, settling into it calmly.

Go back to your own House! Ron screeched, raising his quill like a drawn dagger, ready to strike.

So Harry, what I really didn't understand was this part, Draco began fluidly, snatching his book from his bag and letting it fall open to the appropriate page. Now, when I attempted to turn the parrot into a plate, the design of a parrot was imprinted onto it. Would that be considered an incomplete transformation? Harry frowned, staring at Draco with steadily-flowing apprehension.

Mine had simple gold trim, Hermione perked up suddenly. You should try the spell again, only with greater concentration, Draco.Why thank you, Hermione, the blonde said, smiling curtly and nodding in her direction. He turned the rueful expression on Harry, who was feeling suddenly ready to melt through his chair into a puddle on the floor.

He couldn't say anything. They were supposed to be friends, he'd started the damn thing - he couldn't argue against it. He couldn't order Draco to leave and still keep up the pact, but then again this was never supposed to be a part of it, he was never supposed to actually -

Why don't you drag your skinny ass back to where you belong? Ron mumbled heatedly, clenching his fists openly despite the dark glares Hermione was sending his way.

I'm not sure. Do you enjoy Quidditch, Ronald? Draco asked sweetly, twirling his quill absent-mindedly in his hand. Ron's face flooded with red, and he gritted his teeth, turning his face desperately to Harry for help.

Ehh, Malfoy, listen, he began meekly. It's getting late ...It's hardly eight o'clock, Hermione piped, pointed at the clock with narrowed eyes.

I apologize Harry, you must be very tired, the blonde spoke cordially. He bite his lip slightly as he turned to Harry, his smile a complete contrast to his polite voice. I've been so selfish, wanting help with my work when in reality, you struggle so much more with Potions. Let me help you with that essay so that you can go up to bed earlier.That really isn't necess-Let's see, what topic did you get? Oh, witch hazel, the blonde began immediately, bending over Harry's shoulder to read the scratchy title. He slid his chair toward the other boy, his smile twitching when Harry flinched as their arms brushed together.

Very common, he continued. Its uses are incrediby diverse. I would use the glossary in the back of the book as a basic guild, first of all ...I think I can handle this on my own, Malfoy, Harry muttered uncomfortably, feeling his blood begin to kindle. The blonde merely raised a sculpted eyebrow.

He has such long eyelashes.

Hermione said from her side of the table, shaking her head slightly. Harry, you need all the help you can get. You're hanging on by a thread and you know it, and we all know that Draco excels in potions.Worthy praise from someone so accomplished herself, Draco grinned, flashing Harry a wicked smile, nearly malicious in the way that it screamed victory. Harry attempted to scowl in return, but it seemed to be much harder to do so when the blonde was hardly a foot away from his face.

he grunted instead.

Two hours later, the brunette was staring down at two feet of writing, the majority of it his own, though the entire length of it was littered with the blonde's red-ink And now we rewrite it, Draco snickered.

I really thought it was fine before you had to go and proof it .. Harry muttered in the same barely-controlled, intensely uncomfortable tone of voice he'd been using the entire evening with his enemy-turned-study-buddy. Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes.

he said airily. Snape would have used that chicken scratch to kindle a nice little cauldren fire.I doubt he'd give up the chance to return it to me with a glaring failing grade scralled cross the top, Harry grumpled, still staring at the red ink as though trying to burn it off the scroll.

Me either, Draco grinned. Just like I'd never miss the chance to comment on it.

Harry turned to him, his displeasure written across his face and ingrained deep in his narrowed eyes. Draco simply let his smile grow larger.

Ron said loudly, his voice edgy. Harry turned toward him gratefully, glad to escape the blonde's flickering, forboding grey eyes. His smile was still too strange, even after hours of subtle insult.

It's getting a bit late then, isn't it? he announced, jerking his head toward the clock. It read a good thirty seconds past ten o'clock.

Need your beauty sleep, Ronald? Draco asked mock-sweetly, stretching his neck lazily.

The Slytherins should be missing you by now, shouldn't they? the redhead growled. I'm sure some slutty girl is hanging out by your dormitory door, ready to cry.

Draco shrugged, smiling indulgently at this.

By now, after two hours of this, Harry had discovered the purpose of Draco's little game. Not only did he want to gloriously mock his offer of a truce (embarassing him greatly in the process), he wanted to invade his world and fill it with everything he wasn't comfortable having: namely a friendship with a boy he loathed.

Draco was trying to piss him off by being friendly. When he thought about it, it was easy to believe, coming from the devious blonde. Strange, creative, but easy to believe.

And certainly, he wasn't the only one capable of playing.

It is getting a little late, Hermione agreed after a few long seconds, closing her book slowly. We all need to be well-rested for our lessons tomorrow. Ron said gruffly. So, we'll just all go to our respective House dorms and call it a night, won't we?Are you done with your essay, Harry? Hermione asked, staring across at him curiously.

Ehrm, basically, Harry answered quietly. I only need to rewrite it.Oh, I see, she said, darting her eyes toward the blonde, who had settled back into his armchair with his hands placed lazily behind his head. It was really great of Draco to help you out like this. Harry said lowly, pursing his lips. Hermione glared at him, still glancing expectantly between himself and the Slytherin. After a long pause, Harry sighed under his breath.

Thanks Malfoy, he muttered.

Why, it's no problem, Harry, Draco drawled loudly, sitting back only to lean closer to the boy, flashing his pearly white teeth. Not for a friend like you. Harry spoke, his anger apparent under the surface of his words.

Well then, up to bed, Ron began loudly again, gathering up his things in a very conspicuous way. Harry began to do the same, followed shortly by the blonde next to him. A few minutes later, all were standing.

See you upstairs, Harry, Ron said jerkily, sending Draco a dark glare before disappearing up the staircase.

Goodnight, Harry, Hermione spoke calmly. Goodnight, Hermione, the blonde nearly purred.

Night, Harry mumbled. She began her descent up the staircase, leaving the two boys awkwardly alone.

Fun working with you, Potter, Draco said, his eyes glowing with mirth. He shifted his bag on his shoulder, his smirk the perfect invitation to challenge the evening.

But cunningly, Harry would do no such thing.

It was, Harry began, throwing as much warmth into his voice as he could stand. I'm really grateful for your help. We should do this again soon.Oh, yes, we should, Draco replied deviously.

Harry said. Slowly, a wicked smile was blooming within his own features. So, Draco, how about a hug?

The blonde blinked, the smug smile vanishing like water into dirt.

he repeated, the emerging frown streaked with horrified surprise.

It's an embrace between friends, Harry smirked. He stepped forward, subtlely outstretching his arms toward the other boy, daring him to come closer and complete the unmentionable task.

I know that, Potter, Draco spat, his face paling. He darted his eyes between Harry's smug face and his open arms, his frown steadily deepening. He took in a long, deep breath, biting down on his bottom lip.

And then, in a few fluid steps, he came forward.

One of his hands slipped around Harry's waist, settling loosely on his lower back, and the other came up awkardly around his neck, brushing against the blade of his opposite shoulder.

Suddenly, his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of Draco's white-blonde hair, the majority of which was pressed against his cheek and ear. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the boy in the same way, though clumbsily, as neither Ron nor Hermione were very big on such actions.

He waited, still breathing in the scent of hair mixed with the general scent of the boy, a rich combination of perfumes and vanilla-cinnamon skin, until he felt the hand on his lower back press against it firmly, felt the silky hair shift.

He felt the moment during which they should have pulled apart pass, pressing his eyes shut tight as he waited desperately for it to come.

It was completely apparent to him, then, that they could not be friends.

Ms. Rose: Haven't done a cliffy in awhile.

Draco: Will this sad excuse for a ever end? It's not even sodding true.

Harry: I do love it when you use profanity.

Draco: I'm bored. Can't we just all get wasted?

Ms. Rose: It's been done.

Draco: Eat cheap mass-produce doughnuts?

Ms. Rose: Been there.

Harry: Sexual innuendo?

Ms. Rose: Yawn. I'm out of fun ideas, guys, sorry.

Harry: I know, we can have a mmmmmmphhh!

Ms. Rose: Draco! Let the boy speak!

Harry: Mmmrrrgrrph -gasp of air- what the hell?

Draco: No.

Harry: Yes, you sexy little party crasher.

Draco: No! We will NOT sink to this level.

Harry: We're bored and Rose is exhausted, the critics will understand.

Draco: Never.

Harry: Reviewer contest!

Draco: I refuse to condone this idiocy.

Harry: Whoever does the, ahh, most intersting thing gets, ahh, mention!

Draco: Ooo, mention. I bet they'd all die for that.

Ms. Rose: What's considered interesting?

Harry: Emailing us naked Drake fanarts.

Draco: WHAT!

Harry: Mmm.

Ms. Rose: Those horny fangirl organization letters were pretty sweet.

Draco: New contest. First person to send me arsenic gets mention!

Ms. Rose: You can't send arsenic over the Internet, sweet cake.

Draco: Damn it.

Harry: Awe, have a bloody sense of humor.

Ms. Rose: Plus I'm lonely and like getting mail. -sniff-

Draco: Oh, shove it. You can all shove it! Up your reviewing gay-loving asses!

Harry: I think your ass is just as gay-loving as any of theirs.

Draco: New contest. First person to mail us duct tape wins.

Ms. Rose: Ooo, kinky!

Harry: I made some brownies. Want some, Draco?

Draco: Please, let me die in my sleep. Just pass away quickly ...

Ms. Rose: Mmm, don't mind if I do. Chocolate is an aphrodasiac, Draco dear.

Draco: -walks away-

Harry: I'll get him later.

Ms. Rose: Okee doo.