a/n: Chapter 5 of 5! A little angst at the beginning, but a happy ending! Wooo! A day early because my internet is broken and my friend has graciously let me steal hers.

OMFG I saw HBP at midnight on Wednesday and it was BLOODY FANTASTIC!! (Ron will always be my favourite, but Draco is slowly making his way up the ranks...)

Oh and btw, I lied when I said that this was my last Five Things Challenge fic. I'm planning one more based on 'Five Things Bellatrix Taught Her Nephew' tentatively titled Atrophy, so keep a look out for that in the near future.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but if I did, I'd be one rich muthafucka.

Oh...

Did he...

Did he just...

Scream my name... My name?

Yes.

I glanced quickly towards my chest. Through Malfoy's fine hair I could make out the heaving mounds of skin and I knew the potion was still in effect.

So why, then?

Why, if not in surprise or anger, did he scream my name?

XXX

Malfoy's head snapped up; the sticky sound of his cheek separating itself from Harry's sweaty bosom was the only sound in the room. A delicate blush tinted his steadily paling skin. His lips, swollen and ravaged by his partner's smothering affection parted and a pink tongue slipped from between them to swipe at the bruises.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and gaped down at the Slytherin draped across his naked body. "Did..." Harry paused, commanding his words to arrange themselves to form a coherent sentence with a quick cleansing blink of his eyes. "Just now when you... Did you say 'Harry'?"

The blonde forced a chuckle from those battered lips and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. I said 'Pansy.' Of course I said 'Pansy'."

"Are you sure?" Harry pressed, his speech accelerating to match the pace of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Because I could have sworn I heard 'Harry'."

"Yeah, well..." Malfoy rolled over so that he was no longer laying on top of the Gryffindor, but beside him sprawled out on the crumpled satin sheets. "You heard wrong." He glared up at the black canopy as if he were trying to burn holes in the fabric.

Harry turned to face him, moving his arms so that one supported his weight and the other crossed his frustratingly protrusive chest, his fingertips just perilous inches from Malfoy's. "I don't think so, Draco," Harry whispered, aching to reach out and brush the unsuspecting digits.

The Slytherin aimed his venomous gaze at Harry, his lips curling back into a grimace of anger. "I'm not... gay!" he spat before turning away and moving himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, his fine-fingered hands running through his hair, disheveling it further. "It was a slip of the tongue," he murmured almost to himself. "Don't read too much into it..."

Harry shifted towards the other boy and laid a reassuring hand on his back, not quite knowing what to say and still drunk of off champagne, sex, and shock, but wanting desperately to make contact. To tell him who I really am...

Malfoy flinched under the unexpected touch, but bore Harry's hand on his skin as if it was his duty to endure whatever loving gestures were bestowed upon him. There was no emotion on his drawn face and it was reflected in the mirror across the room for Harry to see.

"Don't tell me that I can talk to you," Malfoy said suddenly, raising his eyes to meet Harry's in the mirror.

"But you can," Harry said hurriedly to Malfoy's reflection. He squeezed his shoulder. "I'm here for you, Draco." Malfoy made a face and Harry wished he hadn't spoken, as he had obviously said something wrong.

"Don't pretend like you're so committed to me, Parkinson. I know you'll go right to Blaise when we get through here and Merlin knows who else after that."

Harry had the sense to look embarrassed, though he only had a vague understanding of what Malfoy was telling him, and removed his hand from the other boy's back reluctantly, placing it under his own chin instead. Harry wished he could say something, anything, but it didn't seem like Malfoy would listen: He was staring at his reflection and shaking his head as if disgusted.

"Why do we pretend, Pansy?" Malfoy asked, twisting around to face Harry, who remained silent. "Why do you pretend to love me and why do I pretend to love you?"

Harry cleared his throat, finally, after enduring a few moments of scrutiny under Malfoy's stare. "I don't know."

"I know why... It's because we're supposed to love each other." Malfoy grabbed the back of Harry's neck and gently ran his fingers up through the brown bob. Harry shivered, suddenly reminded of the fact that he was naked in bed with Draco Malfoy and, aside from being a little cold, was perfectly comfortable.

"I'm supposed to marry a pureblood witch," the blonde continued, still rubbing at the back of Harry's head in slow, soothing circles. "I have to continue the Malfoy line. I can't be gay." He stopped and pulled his hand away to pat at his own hair, trying to smooth it down some to no avail. He gave up after a few seconds with a sigh of defeat and let his hand fall to his side.

Harry stared at Malfoy's hand gathering the courage to just wind his fingers through it. He traced the fine lines across Malfoy's palm timidly with his forefinger, working his way upwards. "But are you? Gay, I mean." Harry held his breath and dared not look at the Slytherin's face, so he looked at his hand, pale like the rest of his body, but rough with callouses from Quidditch.

He felt Malfoy's hand twitch with the shrug that rippled across his broad shoulders. "I don't know. I've never been with another man..." Malfoy paused and looked down at Harry with a halfhearted smirk on his lips. "But I do entertain notions about fucking the innocence out of one Harry James Potter."

The brunette's eyes widened in shock and he gawked at Malfoy in disbelief mixed with just a hint of surprised happiness. Of course, Malfoy could only see the skepticism in Pansy Parkinson's face.

"Do what you want with that little bit of gossip," he said with a wave of his hand. "I really don't care."

Harry pulled himself together enough to close his mouth and mumble, "I'd never tell anyone, Draco."

The blonde snorted and rolled his eyes. "That's a laugh."

He stood and bent to retrieve his boxer shorts from the floor at the foot of the bed, giving Harry ample time to ogle Malfoy's arse, which he did without restraint.

"Stare while you have the chance, Parkinson," Malfoy drawled as he slowly pulled the boxers up his legs to cover his exposed skin. "This is it for us, I think."

Harry scrambled into a sitting position, arranging the sheets around him to cover the monstrosity that was the female genetailia. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy laughed and strode over to Harry. He stroked Harry's cheek with the back of one hand and angled his chin upwards with the other. His lips pressed against Harry's chastely. "I mean, why pretend anymore, Pansy, now that we can both admit the truth?" he mumbled against Harry's mouth. They kissed once more before Malfoy pulled away and summoned Harry's clothes into a neat pile on the bed beside the Gryffindor.

"It's time to get back," Malfoy said, indicating the clock that had suddenly appeared on the mantle above the fireplace with a nod of his head. "Blaise will be missing you." He turned around and pretended to occupy himself with yet another glass of champagne that he wouldn't drink and Harry took that as his cue to get dressed, which he did with as much speed as he could manage, barely getting both arms into his sweater before he was out the door, his skirt falling down around his ankles.

The door to the Room of Requirement sealed shut behind him, blending seamlessly into the wall of the seventh floor corridor.

Harry stooped to regain control of his unruly skirt and eyed the door warily, waiting for Malfoy to emerge himself, but he didn't, and with a sigh, Harry returned to the trunk.

Upon lifting the lid, the Gryffindor found Pansy still unconscious and snoring softly. With a smile, Harry reached inside and retrieved his broom and invisibility cloak before closing the trunk and throwing the cloak over his shoulders as he made his way silently down the corridor away from the Room and towards his bed where he could think over the night's events in solitude... Well, until Ron came bursting in drunkenly and tried to slur his way through a blow-by-blow of the party that Harry had missed.

Why had he spent so much time angsting over this plan? It went flawlessly! He hadn't been discovered and all the answers to his problems appeared to be solved. And maybe, just maybe, sometime in the future he could tell Malfoy what he had done and maybe the git wouldn't hate him so much after all. Maybe, he'd feel the exact opposite of hate... Harry couldn't bring himself to say the word; it was too good to imagine.

It wasn't until Harry was getting dressed the next morning and the Polyjuice Potion had long since worn off that he realized his glasses weren't in their usual place on his bedside table...

XXX

"Looks like someone feels better," Hermione noted casually with a small smile. She reached out towards the plate of bacon to grab another piece, but her hand made brief contact with Ron's, which was aimed in the same direction for the same purpose. Both Gryffindors blushed matching shades of red and mumbled quick apologies before returning their respective hands to their laps and avoiding eye contact.

Harry felt nervous laughter bubbling in his stomach and fought to keep calm as he smeared jam on a scone. "Yes, much better... How was the party?" He shifted on the bench and winced as a shooting pain erupted from his tailbone and traveled swiftly up his spine. Luckily for him, neither of his friends seemed to notice, as they were both looking intently at their food.

Ron's blush intensified while Hermione's face paled considerably. "Just fine!" she said in her high, pinched voice that obviously meant she was hiding something. Harry's eyebrows raised.

"Where are your glasses, Harry?" Ron mumbled into a goblet of juice. Hermione nodded her approval at the change of subject and went back to spreading egg yoke across her plate with her knife.

Harry gave them a measured shrug. "Must've left them somewhere... It's fine really; I just keep having to cast temporary vision charms until I find them..."

Hermione opened her mouth to offer her friend a bit of helpful advice, but her words became trapped somewhere between her throat and her mouth by the sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy at their table looking impeccably dressed and quite alone; Crabbe and Goyle were still seated at the Slytherin table and watching their leader from across the room.

Malfoy laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, causing him to jump and drop his knife and scone simultaneously. "Potter, I need to see you out in the corridor..." he breathed against Harry's ear, sending an anxious shiver up the brunette's back. The hand contracted around Harry's shoulder forcefully, commandingly. Harry had no choice but to stand and follow Malfoy doggedly from the Great Hall under a dozen pairs of curious eyes.

Ron, momentarily forgetting his inebriated ramblings of the previous night, in which he confessed his undying love for Hermione Granger, turned to face the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Is that vision charm of his wearing off, because Harry just walked away with Draco Malfoy..."

XXX

Harry stopped just outside the double doors and stood obstinately, his arms folded over his chest. "What is this all about, Dra-Malfoy?" he corrected quickly with a scowl.

"Not here," the Slytherin hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing Harry's upper arm tightly as his eyes swept the corridor for people. He led Harry into an unlocked and rarely used classroom and released his hold on the other boy before drawing his wand and casting a locking charm on the door.

Harry rubbed his bicep where Malfoy's grip had undoubtedly left bruises. It was a wonder that that was the very same hand that Harry had laced his fingers through the night before.

The blonde turned and faced Harry, a strange and unreadable expression clouding his angular features. "It's a funny story, Potter. Just the kind of thing I think you'd like... Sit, please." Malfoy made a gesture with his wand and Harry was slammed down into a chair, clenching his eyes shut with the sudden shockwave of pain delivered to his arse and biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Malfoy's expression became smug and a smile teased at the corners of his lips. He "hmm-ed" in the back of his throat once before pacing purposefully back and forth before Harry, who was still twitching in discomfort. "Early this morning, I was sitting on the couch in the Slytherin common room and, surprisingly enough, in walks Pansy Parkinson." He leaned down and exhaled, showering Harry in a breeze of cinnamon and pumpkin juice. "Why is that so surprising, Harry? Do you know?" he asked, the resonance from his voice making Harry's lips tingle.

"No," Harry said softly, tilting his head and forcing their lips a fraction of a centimetre closer.

The Slytherin didn't move for a long moment, but then pulled away, startling Harry back into his chair with a twinge of agony from his abused muscles. "It's surprising because I had been with Pansy for quite some time before her entrance into the Slytherin common room, and yet when I asked her about it, she had no recollection of anything after dinner last night."

"Oh..." Harry breathed, apprehension flooding his body. He stared up at Malfoy and he knew that he knew, and the feeling was terrible. All at once, Harry wanted to apologize, flee, and scream that it had been the best night of his short life, even if he had spent it wearing the skin of an unattractive skank. But he remained seated just staring and his cheeks burning.

"And the funniest part, Harry, is that when she awoke in a large trunk on the seventh floor sporting an ugly lump on the side of her head, she found these beside her..." Malfoy pulled Harry's glasses from his cloak pocket and held them out for Harry to take, which he did after a slight pause. "Isn't that funny?"

"Hilarious..." Harry muttered as he shoved his glasses into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, not bothering with the bulky frames for the time being because the vision charm he had cast before breakfast was still in effect.

Malfoy bent down again, planting his hands on the armrests on either side of the chair Harry occupied. "It was you, last night in the Room of Requirement. You had Polyjuiced yourself to look like Pansy so you could sleep with me..." Harry nodded apologetically.

The other boy's eyes narrowed and Harry steeled himself for the yelling and hexing to begin, but instead, he whispered one word: "Why?"

"I-I..." Harry stammered. It all made sense in his own head, but it was one of those things that would disintegrate against the logic of the real world once you said it out loud.

Without another thought, he crossed the space between the two and pressed his lips against Malfoy's, just long enough to answer the Slytherin's question. Harry smirked at the bewildered look on Malfoy's face.

"Draco, I think I might be gay..."

Well, now that it's all over, lemme know what you thought (in a lovely review, of course)! And another thing: I was toying with the idea of writing a oneshot companion piece to this about Ron and Hermione's night at the Hufflepuff party... Good idea? Bad idea?

Ta!