Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Harry Potter etc still belongs to JK Rowling, plot still belongs to me.

Author's Note: OK, this one's going to be a bit more sensible than Chapter 6. Remember, I said a BIT. I make no promises.


Harry and Ron barely woke up in time for breakfast on Sunday. Waking up was a rather unpleasant experience for them; they both had thumping headaches and felt faintly sick.

"So this is a hangover," Ron groaned as he dragged himself out of bed.

Harry nodded, but quickly stopped, as his head felt like it was about to fall off. "Wonder how Hermione's feeling?"

"Oh, Merlin... Hermione!" An edge of panic crept into Ron's voice. "I did kiss her, right, I didn't just imagine it?"

"Yeah, it happened," Harry told him apologetically.

Five minutes later, they found out exactly how Hermione was feeling.

"There is a road drill in my head," she said as soon as she saw them come into the common room.

There was a moment of silence.

"You're meant to follow those words with 'I'm never drinking alcohol again'," Harry told her.

"You're joking!" Hermione replied. "Of course I'm drinking alcohol again! It was fun being drunk, even if the hangover isn't. And oh yeah, Ron?"

"What?" Ron squeaked, looking nervous.

"Will you go out with me?" Hermione asked him boldly.

"OK," he answered, looking surprised but pleased.

After breakfast, the three of them went to the Hospital Wing and joined the queue of other Sixth and Seventh Years requesting hangover cures. A harassed looking Madam Pomfrey was handing out cups of a vibrant orange potion.

The potion tasted rather like rancid oranges, but the drinkers found their headaches and nausea clearing up immediately.

Unfortunately for Harry, the absence of this discomfort left him able to think. Straight away, he began to feel guilty. Voldemort was back, Sirius was dead, the whole wizarding world was in peril, and what had he been doing? Getting totally slammed with his friends. And, he remembered with a sickening jolt, his enemies. What had he been thinking, playing drinking games with Draco Malfoy? Oh well, getting drunk with him was an easier way to keep tabs on him than following him. This ridiculous idea almost made Harry laugh, but the guilt stopped him.

Ron and Hermione, however, had no such conscience issues to plague them, and were simply glad to be free of their hangovers. The trio spent the day flicking through their new books, playing wizard chess, and other such pointless pursuits.

By the evening, Harry was feeling quite miserable. The guilt had him swamped, and he felt generally confused.

After dinner, they sat in the common room for what seemed like an age. Then, at last, everyone went up to the dormitories. Harry waited until Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean were asleep, then put on his Invisibility Cloak, picked up the Marauder's Map and slipped down the staircase, across the common room and out of Gryffindor Tower.

He quickly muttered the words to activate the map, checked that his route was clear, and started walking. He headed for the Room of Requirement, which had served many useful purposes before. This time, he was not too bothered about the room itself; he just wanted somewhere to be alone and try to work out his thoughts.

It took only minutes for Harry to reach the corridor where the room would appear. He walked up and down the corridor a few times, thinking 'I need somewhere to be alone, where no one can find me'. At last the door appeared. Harry opened it and entered the room.

He quietly closed the door and leaned his back against it. He glanced around the room and received a nasty shock. It took all his self-control to stop himself cursing when he realised he was not alone after all. And the other person in the room happened to be the person he least wanted to see right now. In the face of this unpleasant surprise, Harry decided to stuff self-control. He cursed. The person spun round. Sure enough, it was Draco Malfoy, but what Malfoy was doing made Harry curse again in pure amazement. He was crying. Draco Malfoy was crying. This Harry simply could not take in.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, finally deciding to speak.

"I was kind of hoping for a room that was empty, Malfoy," Harry said truthfully. "Finding you here is a little like finding a mouldy baked bean inside a tin you thought was empty." He felt a little guilty at saying this, as Malfoy was obviously upset about something.

"Well, Potter," Malfoy spat, "if I were you I'd be careful. To use a comparison like yours, I would just like to say that I'm as dangerous as a vindaloo in disguise."

Harry's mind, instead of bursting into hysterical laughter at how stupid this sounded, immediately replied 'And as hot.' The sheer unexpectedness of this thought nearly knocked him over. As it was, he found himself unable to think of a suitable reply.

"I needed somewhere to escape to," he found himself saying. "Someone's been following me."

Draco went red. "That would be me." Merlin, why did he just admit that?

"I know-" Harry began to say. "Hang on! YOU've been stalking ME?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it stalking-"

"But I've been following YOU!" Harry cried. Merlin, why did he just admit that?

He and Draco stared at each other for a few moments in mute shock. Now THIS was unexpected.

"A-a-any particular reason for following me?" Harry stammered at last.

Draco shrugged evasively. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't up to something. You?"

"Same." Harry shuffled his feet slightly. "You seem... rattled. Is it the hangover?"

"No, I got the potion off Madam Pomfrey earlier. It tasted like rancid oranges, didn't it?"

Harry smiled faintly. A civil exchange with Draco Malfoy. Wonders would never cease. "Yes, it did. Um, if you got the potion, why were you..."

"Crying?" Draco finished. Whoa, did he just say that? "Long story. You don't want to know."

"Yeah?" Harry challenged. "Try me." He moved away from the door and sat in an armchair facing Draco.

"Well. My father's in Azkaban, you know that." Draco began. "And my whole family's just going a bit... nuts. Sirius was my mother's cousin, you know, and she set him up. I can't believe she would do that. And my father... I always knew he was a bit... nasty, but I never thought he'd go back to Voldemort like that-"

"Hang on," Harry stopped him. "You called him Voldemort!"

Draco shrugged. "Act of rebellion. My father always refused to call him that. Anyway, I'm just realising that I never really knew him. He's still my father, but he tried to kill you..."

"And that matters to you because?"

"I'm... starting to like you." He laughed weakly. "Merlin, that sounds stupid."

"No, not really," Harry told him. "I think I kind of like you too."

Draco looked him right in the eye. "Really? If you're lying I'll hex you."

"Seriously, I mean it." Harry replied. "I..."

"You what?"

"This is going to sound really, really stupid. I don't think I want to say it."

"Go on," Draco told him, still looking deadly serious.

"No, it's really embarrassing, I don't want to."

"I'll say something at the same time," Draco offered. "Something embarrassing of my own."

"OK," Harry agreed grudgingly.

"Right then. On the count of three. One, two, three-"

They both spoke at exactly the same time. "I was thinking about you all summer."

"!" Harry swore out loud. "Really?"

"Yep," Draco replied, blushing redder than he ever had in his life. "And you?"

"Totally honest, Draco, I meant it."

"Hang on, you called me Draco! You've never called me Draco!"

"So? After this conversation, I think we're on first name terms."

"OK... Harry."

Author's Note: Well, there it is – at last. It's taken me long enough to get this far. This chapter's kind of stupid, I know, but you try starting a relationship like this one.