Chapter Seven: Insecurities

Disclaimer: I'd give almost anything to own Harry and Draco. Unfortunately, J.K. isn't selling and I couldn't afford to buy them anyway. :P

Warnings: Hot, steamy boyXboy lovin'. Some language.

A/N: I am soooooooo sorry I've gone so long without updating. I've had many, many RL problems. But I'm FINALLY back and should be able to get a few more chapters out fairly quickly. Thank you so much for all the reviews - I'll reply to them all soon!

Big thanks to Brittany for reading over the first draft of this chapter for me. :)

This chapter deals largely with Harry's insecurities about being gay, and his self-loathing induced by the Dursleys and their abusive and toxic upbringing.

Yeah, it's plain to see

That baby you're beautiful

And it's nothing wrong with you

It's me, I'm a freak, yeah

But thanks for lovin' me

'Cause you're doing it perfectly.

"What Do You Want From Me?" by Adam Lambert

Harry and Draco were finally getting dressed; having shagged twice in quick succession, and Harry realising that he had a bushy-haired friend who was likely still waiting for him, intent on a more detailed explanation.

"I assume you'll be rejoining the portable brain?"

"Draco!" Harry fought to smother a laugh.

"What?" Draco widened his eyes innocently.

"She's not... That's not..." Despite his best efforts, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and his eyes danced with mirth. Draco allowed himself a triumphant smirk.

"Be nice." Harry swatted him playfully. Draco danced out of his reach, then allowed Harry to grab his arm and pull him into a hug. Harry buried his face in the taller boy's shoulder, inhaling his scent. "Prat," he murmured.

"That's news to you?" Draco drawled. "Potter, I'm not nice. Don't try to make me into something I'm not. He sniffed in mock offense.

Harry snorted. "You know what I mean. It would just be nice if you could, you know. Play nice."

"Harry," Draco pulled back, holding Harry at arm's length and staring into his eyes. Harry was lost in a sea of grey with cloudy skies. He spoke earnestly. "I hope you know that just because we're... Us... Doesn't mean I'm going to be best friends with Weasel and the - Granger." He had hastily amended the final word when Harry's eyes narrowed. "You do know that, right?

Harry sighed "Yes, you great git. Things between us have changed, but you're still you and Ron and Hermione are still Ron and Hermione! Just... Try to play nice with one another... For me?" He tilted his head up at Draco, looking at the taller boy with pleading eyes. Against his will, Draco felt himself softening.

"Alright," he said grudgingly. "I can try."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. "Just give them a chance, yeah?"

"Potter-"

"You gave me a chance," Harry pointed out.

"Neither Granger or Weasel have ever had their lips around my prick," Draco said dryly. "Nor will they ever," he added quickly, shuddering.

"Prat," Harry said again, punching him lightly on the shoulder as a bright red flush spread over his cheeks, but he was still smiling. "Can you give them a chance? I'm willing to give your friends a chance, and none of my friends ever wanted to hand you over to a dark lord intent on your death." He smirked a little.

"Low blow, Potter." Draco scowled.

"Parkinson - Pansy - never even apologised. And I'm still willing to give her a chance... For you." He stared up at his lover earnestly. "Fuck, Draco, I'm not asking you to like them. Just get to know them and see what happens-"

"A bloodbath," cut in Draco sourly.

"You never know; you could end up liking them after all. Well maybe not Ron," he said hastily as Draco shot him a pointed look. "But you and Hermione have a lot in common. So you never know."

Draco sighed.

"Besides," Harry added as an afterthought. "I never dated either of them, but you and Pansy-"

"Alright!" Draco threw his hands up in the air. "If I don't agree, you're never going to shut up about it, are you?"

"Nope," said Harry smugly.

"Fine," Draco groused. "I'll give them a chance. Are you happy now, Potter, you bloody girl?"

"Hey!" Harry looked indignant. "Pretty sure you've already got a good enough look at my equipment to know it, but I am not a bloody girl!" He snorted. "Or have you forgotten already?" He cocked a sarcastic brow at the blond.

Draco's eyes gleamed. "I don't know, Harry," he purred, pulling Harry flush against himself and reaching down to cup his arse. "Maybe I have." He gave an experimental squeeze, grinding forward and dipped his head down to nip at the smaller boy's neck. Harry gasped.

"Perhaps I need a reminder," Draco added, licking a stripe across the bottom of Harry's jaw.

"Merlin, Draco," he groaned. His eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back, giving Draco full access to the pale curve of his throat. Draco took advantage of it, sucking and biting at the side of Harry's neck until a purpling bruise blossomed there. He smirked against the skin as he felt the brunet squirming; gasping and mewling under his ministrations. He ground forwards, making sure his hardening cock pressed against Harry's hip.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Harry demanded, the amusement and breathlessness in his tone belying the annoyance he tried to convey.

"That's one way of putting it," murmured Draco. "Did you know the French call orgasm 'the little death'?"

"Did not... Know that..." gasped Harry. He bucked unconsciously against the blond, who squeezed his arse and ground into him harder.

"Harry," he growled, nipping at Harry's earlobe. "Want you."

"You just had me!" protested Harry weakly.

"Want you again."

"You had me again!"

"Again, again."

"Merlin, Draco," Harry groaned again. "You are trying to kill me!" With difficulty he forced himself to pull back, away from the blond.

"Harry!" Draco pouted, confused. "You can't tell me you don't want this." He cupped Harry's erection through his jeans. "This speaks volumes." He tried to pull Harry in again, but his efforts were thwarted.

"Merlin, Draco, you know I do; it's just..."

"Just what?"

"Itsjustthatmyarseissorealright?" mumbled Harry, looking down and blushing.

"What?"

"Damnit, Draco, my arse is really sore, okay?" snapped Harry, cheeks flaming.

"Are you alright?" Concern overrode Draco's arousal for a moment and filled his features. He worried he might have hurt the other boy. He looked Harry over worriedly. "Fuck, Harry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Do you need a potion? Will you be alright?"

"It's fine, you pillock. It's not that bad."

"Oh." Draco smiled in relief. Then the predatory look came back into his eyes. He pulled Harry close again. "In that case..." He returned his attentions to Harry's ear. "I think I deserve a reward for agreeing to get to know your friends."

Harry gasped and pulled away again. "Draco!"

Draco blinked at him, the picture of innocence. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.

"There's a difference between 'not that bad' and 'ready for another pounding', you know."

Draco managed to look sheepish while still appearing regal. Harry supposed Draco could probably look regal taking a piss. It was just the way he was. He discarded that train of thought in favour of a more appealing one.

"I'll agree, though, that you deserve a reward," he purred, pressing himself against the Slytherin.

"Oh?" Draco swallowed, looking understandably confused. He reached down again to tentatively cup Harry's arse again. Harry shook his head, eyes gleaming as he moved Draco's hands away. Draco growled in frustration.

"Bloody cocktease!"

"No," Harry laughed. With a Cheshire grin he dropped to his knees and slid his hands under Draco's robes, never breaking eye contact.

"Oh." Draco's breath hitched as he stared into brilliant green. Like a jungle forest; you could get lost in those eyes, Draco thought as Harry fumbled with his fly, unwilling to look away. Then it was down, and Harry slid Draco's trousers and pants down to his knees in one fluid motion.

Draco bit his lip as his erection sprang free. The cool air drafting up his robes onto his bare arse and cock while Harry knelt on the ground in front of him, staring up at him with those amazing eyes was probably the most erotic combination he had ever seen and felt.

Harry gripped his member, caressing the underside with his thumb. Draco moaned, and as his eyes fluttered shut he saw Harry duck his head under his robes. Then warm, wet heat enveloped his cock and he was lost. He tossed his head back, moaning and bucking his hips slightly as Harry's head bobbed.

Harry took him deep; much deeper than before, and the things he did with his tongue were positively illegal, Draco was certain. Harry ran his wicked tongue up and down Draco's shaft, curling around it slightly. He swirled it round the head, flickering back and forth then dipping into the slit. He repeated the motions while one hand worked the base of Draco's cock, and the other fondled his balls. A finger teased his entrance, then Harry swallowed Draco to the hilt, the head of his cock hitting the back of Harry's throat. Draco mewled and arched his back.

Harry sucked and hollowed his cheeks. Draco gasped and his eyes snapped open. His knees buckled and he grabbed the shelf behind him for support.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco moaned. "Oh, Harry! Harry, oh Merlin!"

Draco realised he was not going to last as Harry repeated the pattern. The combination of hot, wet mouth, wicked tongue, and Harry's intense suction; not to mention the fact that it was Harry Potter, his longtime nemesis and rival sucking him off in the library, was too much for him. He came violently with a cry that might have been Harry's name, it might have been Merlin's. It might have been gibberish for all he knew. All he knew was that he had never come so hard from a blowjob in his life. Harry swallowed every drop Draco shot out with precision. The he released Draco and pulled back, coming out from under Draco's robes.

Draco let go of the shelf and slid down, sinking to his knees in front of Harry, panting. "Merlin," he whispered, dazed. He was dimly aware that his trousers and pants were still halfway down. He didn't really care at the moment. Harry smirked - smirked! At him! - and the light in his eyes was positively smug.

"You've been practicing." Draco's voice was flat, a note of accusation underlying it. And not with me, he wanted to add. Hurt and jealousy flared in his chest.

"Only on blood pops," promised Harry, raising his hands in a peacemaking gesture. "And I may have, erm, read a few books." His cheeks pinked deliciously, his eyes and smile turning shy as he added, "You're the only one I want, Draco."

Warmth swept through Draco and with a growl he lunged at Harry, knocking him over. They fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Draco kissing him fiercely; possessively. He tasted himself on Harry's tongue, bitter and salty, and it was right. Harry should taste of him, smell of him; Harry was his.

"Mine," he growled into Harry's mouth.

"Yours," Harry agreed fervently.

Their lips mashed, teeth clacked, tongues danced. It was perfection, and Draco never wanted it to end. Harry bucked against him and he realised the brunet hadn't come. He palmed Harry's erection through his jeans and the boy mewled, arching his back. He ground his hip into Harry, giving him the friction he needed, and it only took a few moments before Harry arched his back again, twisting and coming with a wordless cry.

Draco watched the boy writhing beneath him and was struck by how beautiful he was. He thought to himself that he would never get tired of this; of watching Harry come undone.

He leaned forwards and kissed Harry again, slowly this time, tenderly. For several long moments they were lost in one another's mouths. Draco's heart ached with happiness.

Finally, they lay quietly together, hands languidly stroking one another's sides, snuggling in post-orgasmic bliss.

Harry eventually shifted and let out a sigh. "Hermione's gonna kill me."

"Why?" Draco sounded a little indignant. Harry chuckled.

"Do you have any idea how long we've been here for?"

Draco shrugged, but ceded the point.

Harry sighed again as he staggered to his feet, wincing a little. He hadn't been lying to Draco about being sore. He'd gone from being a virgin to having rather enthusiastic sex twice in one afternoon. While he'd enjoyed it immensely and had no regrets about it, he was quite tender now. He privately wondered if there might be some way to get a potion out of Pomfrey without disclosing the reason he needed it.

Harry saw Hermione sitting at a table by the window, looking rather peeved. He winced in anticipation of what he knew would be a rather enthusiastic tongue lashing. He slid into the seat across from her, wincing again for a different reason.

Hermione looked up at him and blinked. "So you're finally here," she said.

Harry gave her a sheepish grin. "Err, yeah."

She gave him a long, searching look, and he blushed under her gaze. She wasn't stupid. She probably knew exactly what he and Draco had been up to this whole time.

"Have a good... talk?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he answered. He shifted uncomfortably, wincing again. He probably was going to need that potion, after all. He and Draco had gone at it like rabbits, after all, and they hadn't taken it easy on his virgin backside. He bit down on the sting and refocused on Hermione.

"So, tell me, Harry, how long have you and Draco…"

"Since the day he accidentally kissed me in the library. Right where we were standing a while ago, actually."

Hermione looked like she didn't know whether to be impressed with him for being able to hide it so well, or furious at him for not telling her sooner.

"I thought I was your best friend, Harry," she said. He sighed.

"Mione, you are. But I'm sure you don't tell me everything. For example, what you and Ron get up to behind closed doors is absolutely none of my business and I have no interest in hearing about it. I don't see why I should be any different."

"Because, Harry, you didn't even tell me you were seeing him!" She was upset, a flush spreading across her cheeks and tears gathering in her eyes.

"That's because, Mione, I wasn't seeing him. Before our date the other day, it was just sex. There was nothing to tell, unless I wanted to get Ron furious and on my case for no good reason."

"Harry, I didn't even know you liked boys."

Harry hung his head. "I didn't want you to think different of me," he admitted softly.

"Harry – how could you think that?"

"You're muggle-born, Hermione. I know how muggles think. My aunt and uncle –"

"Sod your aunt and uncle!" said Hermione, eyes flashing.

Harry blinked.

"I'm not them, and don't you dare ever compare me to them again, Harry James Potter; or so help me I will hex your bollocks off!" she hissed.

Harry swallowed. He knew she was perfectly capable of following through on that threat.

"Sorry, Mione," he said gently. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It was just… I didn't know for sure. And it wasn't like it was something that I could take back after I'd told you. I was just scared. Because you are my best friend and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Hermione's face softened. She reached out and squeezed his hand, understanding and compassion in her eyes. "I get it, Harry," she said quietly. "It just hurts that you didn't trust me."

He hung his head. He felt now, just how irrational his fears had been. At the same time, he also knew part of where they had come from. "I guess it was because part of me can't accept myself. Part of me believes that my uncle was right, that I'm an aberration and an abomination."

Hermione flinched. "You're not, Harry. Don't ever think that. Ever." She swallowed and spoke thickly, her eyes glistening. "I won't have you saying things like that about yourself."

"I know, Mione. With my head, I know that being gay isn't something I can help or control, and that doesn't mean it's bad any more than my having magic is bad for being something different that I was born with. But there's also a part of me that can't accept that." He stared at the table in front of himself. "I don't know what to do to change that, Mione."

Hermione rose silently and walked over to the other side of the table, and knelt beside him. "You're a wonderful person, Harry James Potter; and an amazing wizard. An incredible human being. Being gay has no bearing on that, and it couldn't possibly make you less than you are in any way. Just because a bigoted bastard pumped his views down your throat your whole life does not mean you have to accept them. You're a precious person; a good person."

Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak around the lump that was in his throat.

"Say it, Harry."

"Say what?"

"Say, 'I am a precious person, a good person.'"

Harry winced. "Mione, I can't say something like that…"

"Do it, Harry; or so help me I will not stop nagging you until you do."

Harry sighed. He spoke quietly and quickly. "I am a precious person, a good person."

"Say it like you mean it, Harry."

He stared at her dubiously. She quirked a brow as if to say, "Get a move on!" He sighed and tried to say it with more feeling.

"I am a precious person, a good person." His cheeks flamed. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He felt like a conceited prat, saying something like that; but there was a small part of him that felt better for having said it. Like a weight had – not dropped off, exactly, but eased up. He supposed Hermione knew what she was on about.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. For a moment Harry was uncomfortable, then he relaxed into her embrace. He hugged her back and she squeezed him so tight that tears came into his eyes. They weren't tears of pain, though. He wasn't sure what they were tears of. Just that he felt better than he had in a long time.

Hermione and Harry had talked for a bit, but mostly she'd just held him while he shivered and his lip trembled. He didn't cry.

He'd left to go tell Ron about Malfoy. She'd had to talk him into that; he'd been reluctant and she understood, saying that it wasn't just because he was gay, but that he was shagging Malfoy and Ron wouldn't understand. He would feel betrayed. She reminded him how he would feel even more betrayed if Harry kept it from him.

"You're not planning on ending things with Malfoy soon, right?" she asked him.

"No," he replied, vehement. "I bloody well love the git; so much that it hurts. If it ends between us, it won't be my doing."

"Then Ron needs to know," she said.

Harry had closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright," he said at last.

After he left Hermione tried to return to her research, but Harry wouldn't leave her mind. She sat up straight and stared into the distance, lost in thought.

She wasn't sure why Harry would have such a hard time embracing his sexuality when he'd eagerly embraced his magic; it wasn't likely the Dursleys had seen one as being worse than the other.

Then again, he hadn't even known magic existed until he was thrust in the middle of a thriving community of people just like him. He was accepted for what he was by everyone but the Dursleys at the same time as he found out he was a wizard. Even his enemies - such as Malfoy, or even Voldemort - didn't hate him for being a wizard. Thanks to the Dursleys' desire to keep him ignorant of magic as a child, they hadn't poisoned him against it with prejudiced words before he had a chance to accept it.

Hermione wondered how long Harry had known - or at least suspected - that he was gay. How long he'd hated that part of himself. It made her sad.

She made a mental note to check on the status of the LGBT community in the wizarding world. It would help Harry to have the support. Then she was brooding again; reflecting on just how much damage the Dursleys had done to Harry over the years, and how very ignorant she had been to most of it until recently.

It had been a few weeks after the war when she had found out. The Golden trio had some time alone at Grimmauld Place, and spent it getting well-acquainted with the contents of a few bottles of Ogden's Finest and reminiscing on the past seven years.

They were having fun until Ron had mentioned the bars over Harry's window in Second Year. A rather inebriated Harry had first shut down, but with some prodding, had opened up and spilled his guts. Once the floodgates were open, everything had spilled out.

She and Ron had known that Harry's life with the Dursleys had been difficult, but the extent of the abuse he'd been subjected to throughout his short life before Hogwarts had taken her breath away. Her heart ached for the little boy who'd grown up locked in a cupboard and told he was worthless his whole life.

When it came to the Dursleys, she could almost feel that Voldemort had had a point about muggles.

Voldemort.

She frowned.

This whole mess with the Marks and Voldemort's rumoured return were serious business, and Harry should be focusing on that; not on shagging Malfoy. Especially if he really loved the prat; this affected Malfoy directly, because of his Mark.

She resolved to talk to Harry about it in the near future.

Right now she sighed, and bent her head over her books again.

The answer was out there somewhere, and she was going to find it. No matter what it took, she would find out who was behind this abomination, and make them pay.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Ron tilted his head, looking at Harry curiously. They sat in the Gryffindor Eighth Year boy's dorm, and Harry had just told Ron he needed to talk to him about something important. Ron waited for Harry to speak.

Now, Ron was not a patient person by nature, and Harry's fidgeting and hemming and hawing and general teetering back and forth while dithering about what to say was beginning to wear what small measure of patience he possessed quite thin.

"Harry," he said irritably after about fifteen minutes of Harry's stalling. "What the bloody hell is the matter, mate? You're driving me Janus-Thickey certifiable, here."

Harry paled.

"I don't know how to say this," he admitted, staring at the floor. "This is really hard, Ron. I can't stand knowing that you're going to look at me differently. That you won't see me the same way. Because you won't. You can't. This changes everything. I know I need to tell you the truth, but I'm terrified of losing you."

Ron blew out a long breath and leaned forwards, elbows propped up on his knees. His level gaze bored into Harry's; bright sky-blue eyes locked onto forest green.

"You know you can tell me anything, mate. We've been friends too long and gone through too much together for anything to tear us apart. You're never going to lose me, ever; even if you want to. You're stuck with me, mate." He grinned. "For good."

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat and shifted uneasily on the bed. He plucked absently at the bedspread; feeling a distracted wave of gratitude that their dorms were in their old House colours. The Gryffindor red was somewhat comforting.

Thoughts of the Tri-Wizard tournament and the Horcrux hunt flitted through his mind; and he wavered between the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow betraying Ron, thinking about things that should have been long since forgiven, and a deep-seated fear that history would once again repeat itself.

Ron's grin faded.

"Look, Harry, mate," he said haltingly. "I know I haven't had the best track record in the past. I've been an awful friend. But I always came back, didn't I? And I can learn from my mistakes. I won't abandon you again. No matter what."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to dispel the fear that gripped him. He thought of Hermione and her words and tried to draw strength from their conversation. He took a deep breath.

"Ron, I'm gay."

Ron stared.

"Aaaaaand…?" He nodded his head, encouraging Harry to continue. Harry was thrown.

"Ron, did you hear me? I said I'm gay." Harry was bewildered.

"I know, mate; I figured that out last year." Ron shrugged dismissively. Harry gaped.

"Wha- how?"

"Well, take the girls you were interested in – Cho and Ginny. Both are built kinda like guys. Skinny guys, but guys. And you never seemed to be interested in either one sexually; just existentially. And yeah; I know what that word means – I'm dating Hermione, remember? She's single-handedly improving my IQ.

"Anyway, there was how you never looked at Seamus' girlie mags, and you had no interest in sleeping with Hermione, even though you guys were all alone, in a tent in the woods for weeks; in a situation where any normal straight guy would at least be tempted. That sort of clued me in.

"And looking back, I could see that you always looked just a little too close and a little too long at good-looking blokes. Not to mention your obsession with Malfoy in sixth year." He shuddered. "Thank god that's over."

Harry coughed.

Ron tipped his head at him again. "You alright, mate?"

Harry felt completely off guard. "So, in the wizarding world… being gay isn't… I dunno; it isn't a big deal?"

Ron shrugged. "It used to be, before Simon Wisener developed the Feminatis Masculinus Potion." He grinned. "Hermione just gave me a whole lesson on it recently. Let me see if I can remember: purebloods were up in arms about gays not being able to have kids. That Simon guy, he was gay, and his family refused to let him see his lover, or they were gonna disinherit him. They demanded that he get married and have an heir. So he comes up with this potion that lets his lover turn temporarily into a hermaphrodite, and develop all the bits to have babies. Problem solved."

Harry's jaw dropped. "That… something like that really exists?"

Ron nodded. "You have to take it every day for six months before the transformation is complete, take it every day of the pregnancy, and get weaned off of it for three months after the baby's born. And it works for both guys and girls; either way, you end up a hermaphrodite." He beamed. "Hermione'll be so proud I remembered all that," he said smugly.

Harry reeled. He felt he couldn't really process all the information he'd just been given. He'd been forced to accept that he would never have children when he realised that he was gay; and he'd grieved for the loss. Now Ron was telling him it was possible.

He felt… uplifted and disoriented.

"So that… just made everyone okay with it?" he asked slowly, trying to understand.

"Not right off the bat, no; but no one could say anything about the lack of heirs anymore, and eventually they came around. You might get the odd prejudiced pillock, but mostly everyone's okay with it. Muggleborns are more likely to have a problem with it than purebloods, to be honest."

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Do you wanna know anything else? Cause I think that's all I can remember. Hermione'd know a lot more, if you have more questions."

Harry shook his head. He cleared his throat, remembering there was still something he hadn't told Ron.

"Hey Ron?"

"Mmm?"

"Remember how me and Malfoy are friends now?"

Ron scowled. "Like I could forget. Geeze, mate; I don't know what you see in that ferret."

Harry cleared his throat again. "Well, we're not just friends, Ron."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Ron's eyes widened comically.

"Bloody hell; you're shagging Malfoy?" he yelped.

Harry winced. "Err, kind of."

Ron closed his eyes and groaned. "Merlin help us," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," began Harry, but Ron waved a hand at him.

"I don't pretend to understand, mate. I won't pretend to like it. But you can shag whoever you want to shag. Just don't ask me to be friends with him." He looked mildly disgusted, but resigned.

Harry broke out into a relieved smile. He felt no small amount of wonder at how the conversation had gone. He gently steered the conversation to Quidditch, and Ron perked up and they carried on as if nothing had changed.

Harry realised that maybe, just maybe, nothing really had.