Author's Note,

A round of very enthusiastic applause goes to Lady Lily Malfoy, my vastly talented beta reader. Hey! Where are you?

To Peaches, my future co-writer, keep writing! Everyone needs to read her new story, "Touch of the Fallen One." Maybe if we all bug her to, she'll update quicker. Lol

To my lovely bride, Mary, I love you forever! You said the last Harry chapter was too short, so you'll be happy to know that I devoted as much attention to Harry in this chapter as I did Draco in Chapter One. Oh, and where's that next chapter of "Someone for Hagrid?" Yes everyone, my dear wife is writing an absolutely adorable Hagrid fic that she never updates!

To Ashley. Sorry Pans, but I don't know your right pen name. All I know is that you read this. I have yet to read your huge fic, but you know I will!

To Jonadark, my loyal reviewer of two chapters who disappeared, Come Back! I do so like your feedback, you know.

To Lani Evans, are you alive?

To Golden Pheonix12, thanks for the positive, all be it short, review. I look forward to reading your fics, but I need you to send me the rating you write in and the pairing so I can find you cause I'm a dork and can't use the search option on this thing.

That goes for everyone. If you want me to review you back as much as I want you to do so, include your pairing and its rating so I can find you. Enjoy Chapter Four!

Then

"You say he's a fagot. Does it make you want to hurt him? You say he's a fagot. Does it make you wanna kick in his brain? You say he's a fagot. Does it make you sick to your stomach? You say he's a fagot. Are you afraid you're just the same? Fagot? Fagot? Do you hate him cause he's pieces of you?"

The song was Pieces of You by some muggle singer named Jewel, and Harry hated it. It filled the small car, and there was no escaping it. Why did Dean and Seamus have such terrible taste in music?

"How are you holding up, Mate?" Cedric asked from beside him.

"Not good," Harry answered in his mind. "Cedric, this is a nightmare!"

"I know, I know," his friend said sympathetically. "I'm right here with you. Just hang in there, Harry. Can you do that?"

"I-I think so," Harry answered uncertainly. "But look at this place!"

Looking at the multi-colored building up ahead, Harry was less than thrilled. This was Dean's idea, and Harry wondered again why in Merlin's name he had let himself be talked in to it. Harry was most definitely not a homo, and the flashing neon sign proclaiming that THE PURPLE DRAGON was the hottest gay dance party in town did nothing to soothe his throbbing nerves.

This evening had been a trying one, as evenings always were when Harry was in the company of Dean and Seamus. They were his friends, but Harry did not approve of their lifestyle. It disgusted him to see the way they held hands, opened doors for each other, and exchanged glances that were too long for Harry to explain away as friendly commeroddery. They had even gone so far as to make their perversion somewhat legal. Instead of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finagin, they had become Mr. And Mr. Thomas-Finagin. Harry hoped one day they would come to their senses, but he doubted this would happen. The two were so intermeshed in their sudo marriage that there looked to be no chance of their disentangling.

"So tell the truth, Harry," Seamus said, breaking in to his somewhat self-pitying thoughts. "Are ya excited for tonight even a little?"

"No," Harry said flatly "but fair is fair."

Dean laughed. "Do you think you'll be taking us to any more straight clubs, Harry?"

"Not a chance in hell," Harry said Dryly. "Last time was a disaster."

"As we told you it would be," Dean said smugly.

Harry reddened, shuddering at the memory of that horrible night. He had taken Dean and Seamus to a nice wholesome dance club filled with nice wholesome girls in hopes that they would come to understand how wrong their sexual preference truly was. For the sake of fairness, Harry had promised that if they did not enjoy themselves, he would accompany them to any gay bar of their choice. It was this promise alone that convinced Dean and Seamus to accompany Harry into the world of functional heterosexuals. Harry hadn't been worried then. He knew with absolute certainty that once Dean and Seamus were emerced in the real world, they would never want to set foot in a gay establishment again. How wrong he had been!

While at the club, Dean and Seamus did indeed meet many beautiful and very heterosexual girls, but instead of future conquests, they all agreed to be bride's maids at the so-called wedding. Seamus was the "bride", so it was he who left with the large group of girls to discuss all the feminen details a bride must discuss with her bride's maids.

Dean kissed Seamus before he left with his female anterage, and instead of positively peer pressuring the two men to seak female companionship, everyone around awed and talked about how nice it was that gayness was so accepted now. Nice? Harry saw nothing nice about it, and now, he was going to The Purple Dragon, one of those festering pits of sin that filled his nightmares in ways that Voldemort never could.

His cousin Dudley had tried to be gay with him once, but Harry would have none of it. Still, the memory hurt and frightened him. Dudly had entered Harry's room while he slept and climbed in to bed with him. Harry had awakened to the pressure of Dudley's full weight atop him, and he had screamed. Aunt Petunia, probably thinking the scream had been Dudley's, ran down the hall and burst through Harry's door. Seeing her dear son lying naked atop a very vehemently struggling Harry, she lost all respect for him.

Dudley's life then became as hard as Harry's had always been, and Harry's life, while not as lavishly easy as Dudley's had been, became relatively more tolerable. Harry was now the favorite boy of the Dersley household, for though Uncle Vernan and Aunt Petunia hated magic, they hated gayness more. Magic, by comparison, was mild, and though Harry had a hard time understanding their twisted logic, he liked being seen as a person rather than a dark blot in Dudley's shadow.

"We're here," Seamus said brightly. "Are ya feeling super yet, Harry?"

"Breathe," Cedric told him, draping a comforting arm around his stiff shoulders. "It's one night, Harry. One night with the gay people, and then you can forget it ever happened. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Harry said aloud in answer to Cedric's question that neither Dean nor Seamus heard.

"That's the spirit," Dean said with a grin. "Now, come on!"

Dean pulled the bright red car into a parking space near the door and stopped. This was it. In mere seconds, Harry Potter would be surrounded with more gayness than he ever had in his whole life. He opened his door and slowly got out of the car. Dragging his feet, he followed Dean and Seamus through the doors. A tall, heavily-muscled woman stood just inside, and Dean Payed her a handful of gallions for their entrence.

Closely following Dean and Seamus to a table, so as not to let anyone think he was single and or gay, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned, looking into the heavily made up face of a wizard in drag.

"Hey sexy!" the homo chirped "wanna dance?"

"No!" Harry said a little sharply. "Uh, no thanks. I don't dance." He sat heavily, looking at the purple menu of drinks in the middle of the table. He was definitely gonna need a drink, and it was gonna be a strong one.

"Not a chance, Pansy Parkinson!" a girl shouted from across the room.

Eager for a distraction, Harry looked, hoping against hope it wouldn't be a dike he saw. To his surprise, it wasn't. The girl with Parkinson was beautiful and radiant. If she was a dike, she wasn't a bulldike like the bouncer at the door. Maybe later, with a few drinks in him, Harry would approach her. With these fems, there was at least some measure of hope for them to see reason and embrace heterosexuality. Harry knew about these things.

"Aww come on, Dray Dray!" Parkinson protested. "What harm could it do?"

Harry was farely sure Dray Dray wasn't the girl's whole name, but he wondered what it was short for. Andrea perhaps? Parkinson proceeded to propel the girl across the room in Harry's direction. Harry watched, goggle-eyed, as the pair came closer and closer. Harry could feel his tongue thicken in his mouth and knew that speaking to the girl would be impossible. This Dray Dray, this vision in blue was so beautiful and pure that Harry was beside himself with a tender admiration that took his breath away. She was the kind of girl who wouldn't marry a guy without her daddy's consent, the kind of girl who loved Jesus, and her mamma, and old people, and horses, and rain, and star gazing. Harry knew about these things. Harry knew her type, and those like her were so rare that to see one here amid all this corruption shocked him.

For the second time tonight, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder, but this time, he didn't have to turn around. He was looking in to the broadly-smiling face of Pansy Parkinson. She held the girl firmly by the hand, and Harry wondered for a sickening moment if they were lovers. "Excuse me, Potter," Pansy said "but would you dance with my friend here?

"Uh, sure," Harry said, getting up awkwardly from his chair and waving goodbye to Dean and Seamus. "Come on." Harry took the girl by the hand and lead her out on to the dance floor. "So, what's your name?" he asked.

"I'm Dray – uh, --" the girl said uncertainly.

"Drayia," Harry repeated softly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Harry."

"I-I know," Drayia said, flushing slightly. "I sort of went to school with you."

"You did?" Harry asked, taking another look at the lovely girl as he took her in his arms for a slow dance. "What house were you in? I was a Gryfindor, but I guess you knew that."

"Yeah," she said "the famous Potter. You were kind of a celebrity, you know."

Harry made a face. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

"What with being The Boy Who Lived and defeating the big bad Lord Voldemort," the girl said with a grin "it's no wonder. But don't worry. You look pretty average up close."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Thanks!" He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. All his life, Harry had wanted nothing more than to be normal. Now, this Drayia, though she was obviously quite taken with him, thought him normal. "So," he said after an awkward silence "what house were you in, Drayia?"

"House?" she asked.

"Yeah, house," Harry said arching an eyebrow. "You know. The place you lived during your time at Hogwarts?"

"Oh!" Drayia laughed nervously. "That house! I was a, um, Slytherin."

"Slytherin," Harry repeated. "I wouldn't have guessed. You're not the type, but I guess you got that all the time back then."

Drayia flushed again, and Harry thought she should do it all the time. It became her so, the red suffusing the soft whiteness of her cheaks, making them look like rosepettles. "No," she said "I must say nobody ever told me I wasn't the type for Slytherin."

"You weren't in Malfoy's croud, were you?" Harry asked. "He was my arch enemy, you know."

"Yeah," she said, matching his gaze "I was. Draco and I are very close."

Harry was shocked. "But you're so nice and he's so, so Malfoy!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Potter?" she asked, stiffening.