3.

Harry groaned as noise started filtering into his head. He'd stayed up way too late staring at the map, err, doing his defense essay. Not like any effort he put into the essay would matter now that Snape was the teacher. Ugh. Why did the universe seem to hate him so? Chosen One my ass. Harry hadn't meant to waste half the night contemplating how to prove to his friends that Malfoy was truly a death eater. He was at a loss though. Why wouldn't they believe him? It was so obvious to him. The blonde never rolled up his sleeves and growled if anyone even came near his left forearm. (Ron: "I bet you'd growl too if Parkinson was constantly trying to feel you up.") He wasn't baiting Harry or his friends like he had the past 5 years. (Hermione: "I'm glad you are finally admitting you're a masochist. I'll see if my mum can send you some books. No Ron, I can't get her to send you comic books. Seamus, if you EVER say another word about my mum, you'll be living with the Giant Squid.") And, most telling of all, Malfoy's normally sparkling and mischievous eyes looked dead. (Seamus: "I think you're getting death eaters confused with Inferi. Hey, if Malfoy is an Inferi then you can't go to Azkaban for killing him. Cause he's already dead." Everyone else: "….") *Sigh*

Harry came back from his thoughts as he heard Ron threaten Seamus, Dean and Neville with the worst fate a teenage boy could contemplate: dying a virgin. Harry stifled a laugh. Seamus had proudly (and loudly - seriously; there's a reason Harry was so good at silencing spells) lost his virginity in third year; Dean was dating Ginny again, and he would be surprised if either of them remained virgins for long, assuming they still were; and Neville was, well, Neville. No doubt the boy's face was red beyond recognition. Although, he had seen Neville sneaking glances at both Luna and Hannah Abbott when he thought nobody else was looking. Maybe he'd give Neville a push in their direction once he'd figured out the Malfoy situation. And figure out the Malfoy situation he would. One way or another.

Harry heard the door slam shut and the other boys muttering. What was stuck up Ron's ass anyway? He briefly recalled Ron leaving the common room in a hurry last night, along with Hermione making some snide comment about people thinking Harry had a thing for Malfoy if he didn't stop ogling him everywhere he went. And yeah, Malfoy had a fine ass. A very fine ass. And his sparkling eyes were gorgeous when they weren't dead. And that mouth. Gods he wanted to wipe the ever present smirk right off of the prat's face. But he didn't have a thing for Malfoy. And he most certainly didn't ogle. Much. Girls were such trouble. Always trying to see intrigue and romance where there was none. Sure, he wasn't currently interested in any of their female classmates. And yeah, his whatever you would call it with Cho was an absolute disaster. *Shudder* And okay, maybe he was slightly obsessed with Malfoy's appearance and whereabouts - for good reason, mind you. None of that meant he was interested in boys. Or Malfoy. Malfoy would be the last boy he would have a thing for, if he did indeed like boys. Which he didn't. At least he didn't think he did. Not that he'd had time to think about such things. Or had people to talk about such things with. The Dursleys didn't need an extra reason to think of him as a freak. Ron seemed to be pretty clueless. Neville would faint if Harry tried to bring up sexuality with him. And Seamus would either try to molest him or tell everyone in the entire wizarding world that the Boy Who Lived loved boys. Rita Skeeter would have a field day with THAT. Luckily it's a moot point. Because if he never took the effort to consider the rather convincing evidence that he was indeed gay (notice the word IF), then it quite clearly meant he wasn't gay. His inner Hermione laughed at his "logic". But, he was very good at telling his inner Hermione to stuff it. He would never tell actual Hermione that of course. He valued his life, thank you very much.

Harry's inner monologue was interrupted by his rather hard penis. Inner Hermione smirked. He mentally gave her a finger. His morning wood had nothing to do with Malfoy. He was merely a healthy teenage male. It happens. And him still being hard even now while thinking about Malfoy and how very much NOT gay he is has a reasonable explanation. He's very healthy. So healthy that wanking last night to his wandering thoughts of what Malfoy was up to was clearly not enough. Thank Merlin for silencing spells. And wanking. And Malfoy. Wait… The fact that Harry came in record time had nothing to do with Malfoy. Inner Hermione smirked again.

Ron and Hermione had already been at breakfast when Harry finally arrived. Hermione had taken in Harry's flushed appearance and smirked at him. Inner Hermione also smirked. Damn it. It's like those two were conspiring against him. Harry decided it best to avoid Hermione as much as possible today, so made his way to the seat in between Ron and Dean. Hermione had been sitting right next to Ron, as usual. Hermione had made it her mission to sit right next to Ron at all times possible the past few weeks. Harry wasn't blind or oblivious (really, he wasn't). He knew his two best friends had a thing for each other. Unlike he and Malfoy. Thank Merlin. Malfoy having a thing for him would be horrible. Awkward. Amazing. Amazingly awkward? Horribly amazing? No. Horrible was the right word. Inner Hermione smirked again. Harry contemplated how to get rid of Inner Hermione. One Hermione was more than enough for him. Maybe he should just go to St. Mungo's and tell them he was hearing voices again.

By the time Harry made it across the hall and to the seat he'd intended on occupying, Ginny had slid onto the seat. She glanced up at Harry and smiled, and Harry started towards the unoccupied seat next to Neville. Ron apparently had other ideas. He grabbed Harry and pulled him down. Right onto Ron's lap. Harry made to get up, but Ron quickly put his arms around Harry's waist, holding him in place. Harry squeaked, his body tensed, and time briefly stood still. What was Ron playing at? Did he think Harry was gay too? Is that why he'd been threatening the others? If both of his best friends thought he was gay did that mean he was? Harry quickly looked around the hall. Seamus winked at Harry; Ginny winked at Ron; Neville looked like he was going to faint; Hermione looked pensive. And Malfoy? Malfoy's eyes were sparkling and full of Death. Hmmm. That's a change. Malfoy's death glare wasn't aimed at Harry though. No, it was aimed at Ron. The same Ron whose lap Harry was still forcibly sitting on. Harry could do nothing but admire those beautiful, sparkling eyes that promised a very painful death to his red headed best friend. Sitting on Ron's lap while gazing at the pool of molten silver in Malfoy's eyes, Harry realized a few things. One, he was hard. Again. Two, he could no longer continue to live in denial that he wasn't gay. Clearly his penis had a thing for Malfoy, or at least Malfoy's angry eyes. So, unless Malfoy was female, that meant that he, Harry James Potter, was gay. And three, he was indeed a masochist. Harry let his head fall to the table. Bloody Hell.