Disclaimer: I wish I could own 'em . . .
"Harry," Draco mumbled groggily, "Harry, what time is it?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Harry retorted. "Whatever time it is, it's-"
"Time to get up," said a soft, but very awake voice.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Draco exclaimed. "What, why, I-" He was suddenly very aware that he was still wrapped in Harry's arms, shirtless. "Uh, I can explain. Harry, why are you laughing?"
Harry was shaking with laughter. "You- you're so funny when you're flustered."
"Professor Dumbledore is standing there, watching us sleep with you all over me, and
you're laughing." Draco frowned. "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"
"No, dear boy," Dumbledore reassured with a smile. "But there is rarely anything going on that I do not know about."
"So you know about us?" Draco questioned through narrow eyes.
"Yes, he knows about us," Harry answered, landing a quick kiss on Draco's nose. "So get over it and get up. My arm is asleep." Draco blushed but sat up, which freed Harry's arm, and hastily combed his hair through his fingers.
"So, may I ask why you're here, Professor?" Draco said in the tone he reserved for adults.
"In a few minutes, both you and Harry will need to return to your dorm, so your classmates don't become suspicious." Dumbledore motioned for both boys to get out of bed and follow him to the large room with the Portholes. The sleeping portraits snored loudly as they passed, and a few snapped at them for being up so early.
"Now, remember to be quiet as you enter your rooms. The spells keep people away, but don't block out sound." Dumbledore smiled. "Get a few more minutes of sleep, and I'll see you in the Great Hall for breakfast within the hour." The headmaster then turned to Draco, the smile faltering slightly. "I advise you to be careful, Mr. Malfoy, with your house-mates. We all know that some are more treacherous than others." Draco nodded, feeling Harry's arm tighten slightly around his waist. The professor smiled once more, then turned and went down one of the long, twisting hallways.
"We better get going," Harry said in a sleepy voice, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"How long has he known?" Draco demanded, withdrawing from Harry's touch. "And don't play stupid, Harry Potter, since when has Dumbledore known about us?" Draco had his arms crossed and was giving Harry a look that made it very clear that Harry was going to be talking.
"Erm, well, he's known since we got together on Privet Drive," Harry mumbled, avoiding Draco's gaze.
"How did he know?!" Draco exclaimed. "And when were you going to tell me?"
"Well, the Order has people always keeping watch on me, so I guess someone saw and reported it." Harry tried to climb through the Porthole, but Draco grabbed him by the back of his pajama top and hauled him back.
"And why haven't I heard about this before?" he hissed, eyes blazing. "Didn't I have a right to know who knew about us and who didn't?"
"I didn't think about that, okay?" Harry wrenched away from him, venom poisoning his words. "I try not to think about all the people hovering over me day and night, waiting for me to make some little mistake so they can throw me into extreme lock-down like a bloody criminal."
Draco, taken aback by Harry's outburst, opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but wisely shut it. "Sorry," he said instead. "It's just so hard trying to keep this a secret, and the less people that know, the better, for now."
"Yea," Harry said, meeting Draco's eye again. "But I'm the one who should apologize. I went over the top."
"Yes, you did," Draco agreed, pushing Harry up against the wall, "But you can make it up to me right now."
"But breakfast, and classes-"
"Agh, you can spare five minutes." Draco lightly brushed his lips over Harry's and grazed is tongue along Harry's bottom lip. Draco felt Harry shiver, and lids lowered over emerald eyes.
"Okay, five minutes," came the reply, and Draco used all five minutes to his advantage.
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"Where were you this morning?" Ron asked as Harry slid onto the bench in the great hall ten minutes before breakfast was over. "You didn't answer when we tried to get you out of bed, and you barely have enough time to eat before we go to class."
"Wha dwe af irt?" Harry managed around a mouthful of toast.
"We all have Potions, and here's your schedule," Hermione said, placing the parchment in front of Harry. "Are you feeling okay? You look warm, are you coming down with anything?"
Harry shook his head and swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice. Draco's promised five minutes had easily turned into ten, then fifteen, then thirty, and so on until both of them had to make a mad dash for the showers and breakfast. Harry had made it before Draco, most likely because Draco was still preening himself, or at least that was what Harry thought. And he was right.
Draco paused outside the doors to the Great Hall and ran his hands over his magically dried hair to smooth it down once more, then strode in like he owned the place, as usual. He felt the eyes of the Slytherins follow him as he made a beeline for the Gryffindor table, specifically the open seat next to Harry. Using his peripheral vision, he saw a few Slytherins pick up their plates and follow in his wake, and noticed that one of the female fifth years was waved over and sat next to Ginny. They obviously knew each other and struck up conversation immediately, comparing classes and gossiping. The other Slytherins filled in the empty spaces, receiving warm, but surprised, greeting from the Gryffindors.
"I've started a trend," Draco commented as he buttered a croissant. "Aren't I so fashionable?"
"Modest, too," Dean added, snickering.
"Oh, Draco, your hair . . . it's mussed in back." Seamus motioned to the back of Draco's head, and laughed so hard he began to cough at the expression on Draco's face as his arms flailed at his shoulder length hair.
"I . . . I just meant . . . these three little strands . . . were sticking up," Seamus said between fits. He blanched a bit at the scowl Draco sent him but didn't stop laughing. "Ye Gods, you think that the world was going to end by the way you screwed your face up."
Draco scowled. "At least I have some fashion sense," he huffed, filling his plate from the platters around him.
"Yea, enough fashion sense to know every primping charm out there," Ron muttered.
The friendly bantering continued through the meal and into the hallways, but their carefree mood disappeared as they rounded the corner to the dungeons and came upon a group of waiting Slytherins. They did not look happy.
"Well is it isn't the blood traitor," Pansy drawled, Crabbe and Goyle flanking her on either side. "Finally decide to show your weakness and associate with the Gryffindors, eh Malfoy?"
"I'd rather have allies in the lion's den than enemies, Parkinson," Draco said coolly.
"To each his own." Pansy smirked. "You just couldn't resist the temptation of being friends with a celebrity. Always had to be in the limelight."
"Like you?" Harry challenged. "The minute the position of Slytherin Head Bitch is open, you assume the title. Couldn't resist, could you?"
"Harry, this isn't your battle," Draco said without taking his eyes off Pansy. "Stay out of it."
"Oh, so it's Harry now?" Pansy squealed, letting out a high pitched cackle. "Oh, how very pleased your father will be." There was an evil glint in her eye and malice in her smile.
"Harry, Draco, let's go. Class is about to start," Hermione pleaded, tugging on Harry's sleeve. "We don't need to give Snape a reason to dock points on the first day."
"Yes, run off with the Mudblood," Pansy laughed. "Muddy your reputation more than it is already. You're a disgrace."
Draco glanced around them. "Parkinson, you're making a scene," he remarked. All around them students had gathered, watching in an awed silence.
"Perfect," she said. "Now you and your celebrity friend have all the publicity you need."
"It's not like I want it!" Harry yelled, reaching for his wand. Draco grabbed Harry's wrist before it reached his pocket and whipped his head around towards Harry. The familiar silver eyes were frozen over with ice and carried a deadly warning.
"Don't get involved," Draco said through clenched teeth. "This isn't your problem." Harry returned the glare with just as fierce a look, but kept his mouth shut.
"The all powerful Potty now takes orders from the ferret. The Boy-Who-Lived has been knocked off his pedestal." Pansy batted her mascara laden lashes at Harry with a sickening smile.
"Leave him out of this!" Draco snarled. "This is between you and me Parkinson, and let's keep it that way."
"And don't call him a ferret!" Ron said. "Only I'm allowed to do that!"
"Oh look, all the blood traitors are banding together," Blaise said in a tone similar to Pansy's. "Maybe they should start their own little club, like Potter's fan club."
"Guys, we need to get to class," Hermione urged. "Draco, you're a prefect; you can't be late on the first day."
"Yes, be on your way, ickle prefect. This isn't over, Malfoy." Pansy turned and strode off, her heels clicking on the cold stone floor.
"Why someone would wear those shoes to walk around school puzzles me beyond belief." Hermione shook her head as she took hold of Ron's arm and dragged him through the dungeons.
"We were just confronted by the worst bunch of Slytherins in school, and all you can comment on is shoes?" exclaimed Ron. "You are such a girl."
"Yes, with this body, I'd hope so," Hermione retorted. Ron blushed.
"Forget about Pansy for the duration of class," Draco advised. "If Snape notices anything strange, he'll make the situation worse than it already is."
They had reached the Potions classroom and hurried inside right before the bell rang. Surprisingly, Snape wasn't on their heels. In fact, Snape wasn't to be seen, not even in the hallway.
"Weird," Ron commented. "But if Pansy is going to be bothering us all year, I can't wait until the break." Ron plunked his bag on the table next to Hermione's and slid onto his stool.
"Oh, get over yourself," Harry shot at him. "It isn't that bad."
"Harry!" said a shocked Hermione. "That was uncalled for!"
Harry looked away. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Guess I'm still sore over what Pansy said, about me enjoying the publicity."
"But Harry, we all know that's not true," Ron said comfortingly. "She's just doing it to get to you."
"I know," Harry admitted, turning to the front of the room as he unpacked his Potions supplies.
"Liar," Draco said quietly as he slid into the seat next to Harry. "You're not sore over Pansy. You're mad because I told you to stay out of it."
"So what if I am?" Harry pouted. "Not like it's your problem."
"Come off it." Draco's hand slid under the table, linking with Harry's. "You shouldn't be getting mixed up in matters that really don't concern you. You have enough to deal with as it is. I can take care of myself."
Harry nodded, his face turning red as Draco began tracing patterns along the top of his thigh. "Yea, okay, now stop," he hissed. "I don't need to deal with that in the middle of class."
"But it's only the beginning of class," Draco said innocently, using his free hand to set up his cauldron. "You have plenty of time to make it go away. Aren't you so glad these new robes are roomy?"
"Harry, are you okay? You're not going to magically blow something up, are you?" Ron asked worriedly. "You're looking a tad angry."
"Mr. Potter, do you need to visit Madame Pomfrey?" came the cold, slow snarl of Professor Snape as he entered the classroom. "You're looking a bit more red than usual."
"No, Professor, I'll be fine," Harry said as normally as he could. "I'm just a little . . . warm."
"Very well. I suggest you stop trying to impersonate a beet and get to unloading your ingredients. Maybe sitting next to Mr. Malfoy will have an influence on you and your upcoming NE.W.T. exam. I believe he is a much better example than Mr. Weasley ever was." Snape let a small smile slip as he glanced at Draco, but by the time he reached the front of the classroom his usual expression of icy indifference had returned.
"Open your books to the chapter on healing potions," came the command, as if class hadn't been interrupted by summer holiday. "For those of you who didn't bother to crack a book all summer, that would be chapter seven. Brew the first potion on the page, a basic painkilling and minor-abrasion healing potion, and hand it in with your summer assignment by the end of the class. Any extra materials you may need, if you forgot to pick them up or already ruined them," he said, looking pointedly at Neville who couldn't find his shredded boomslang skin, "can be found in the student store cupboard. You have a little more than an hour. You may begin."
"So, do you want to get the extra ingredients, or do you want me to?" Draco said coyly.
"Thanks to you, I can't really stand up right now," Harry growled. "Just get what we need for the potion and get back here. I'll start the fire."
"Ay, ay, captain," sang Draco as he sauntered off to the cabinet. Harry watched him with mixed anger and lust, then focused on lighting the fire.
Even Harry had to admit that when working with Draco, making the potion wasn't as difficult as it was when he was working with Ron. The ingredients were never mixed up or mis-measured, and the potion looked like it was supposed to. Another plus was that they finished way ahead of everyone else.
"Give me your hand," Draco ordered as he gave the potion a final stir. Harry, still wary and still dealing with his previous predicament, thrust it out in front of Draco's face with the wrist upturned. "Tsk, tsk, don't we have an attitude?" Harry just grunted in return.
"This might hurt," Draco said, but before Harry could ask what was going to hurt, he felt a gash open up across his wrist.
"What the hell was that for?!" he cried, snatching his wrist back and examining the cut.
"That hurt!"
"Language, Mr. Potter." Snape shot him a look from his desk, but didn't dock any points.
"Maybe being friends with you has more benefits than I imagined," Harry said. "But why did you cut me?"
"It's a healing potion that fixes minor cuts and bruises, so to make sure it works, we need a cut that we can fix," Draco explained.
"And of course, we couldn't mar your flawless skin, could we?" Harry said bitterly.
"You catch on quickly." Draco scooped a mouthful of the bright orange potion out of the
cauldron with a ladle and held it over his hand. "Come here, you need to drink it."
"Really? I thought I'd have to snort it," Harry said sarcastically. He moved closer and placed his lips on the rim of the metal scoop, which Draco tilted towards him slowly. Harry closed his eyes as the warm liquid slid over his tongue. It was sweet, and tasted faintly of jasmine. Harry felt the potion slide down his throat and spread over the walls of his stomach, infusing his veins and arteries with warmth.
"Harry," Draco said, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Look at your wrist."
Reluctantly Harry opened his eyes and turned his arm over so he could see the gash, or what was left of it. The skin was rapidly expanding and stretching over the cut, the blood drying instantly.
"Guess it works," Harry said, and spooned some of the potion into a flask. Draco applied the label, lettered in his tidy handwriting.
"Time to go turn it in," Draco announced. Draco looked at Harry expectantly.
"What? I'm not going up there! Not like this!" Harry sat stubbornly.
"But I got the ingredients. It's your turn."
"No. You got me into this mess; you are going to turn it in." Harry handed the flask to Draco. "Go."
"I could Imperius you to do it," Draco threatened.
"Doesn't effect me, remember?" Harry smirked. "Now, turn it in." Draco slouched off, throwing a nasty glance over his shoulder. Harry just smiled and started cleaning up.
"Harry, what are you doing? We still have fifteen minutes to go," Ron said, looking up from his and Hermione's table. "You can't be done already."
"Well, we're done," said Harry. "And it works, too. See?" He held up his wrist for Ron and Hermione.
"You let him test on you?" Hermione exclaimed. "But you weren't sure it was going to work! You could have been hurt!"
"Too bad he wasn't," Pansy called from the next table over.
Harry sighed, ignoring her. "We followed the directions precisely, and it looked exactly like it was supposed to. It was safe."
"Just because something looks fine doesn't mean it is!" Hermione reprimanded. "Harry, you-"
"'Mione, you're starting to sound like my mother," Ron interrupted. "Leave him alone. Plus, we need to finish our potion. Come on." Hermione opened her mouth to continue with her safety speech, but changed her train of thought as Ron almost added too much of the dragon liver, which would have made the potion explode. At the last moment she knocked his hand out of the way, sending the liver splattering over the desk.
"Ms. Granger, I hope you intend to clean up that mess before the bell rings, or I may have to deduct points for your clumsiness."
"Yes, Professor," she sighed, glowering at Ron.
"Did they mess something up again?" Draco asked, back at the desk. "It's a miracle that either of them passed their O.W.L.'s."
"It's a miracle I passed my owls. I'm either going to have to keep an almost perfect score in Potions this year or take extra classes." Harry scowled. "I didn't do so well on the exams."
"And you have yourself to blame for it," Draco said as he vanished the leftover potion from the cauldron. "Should have spent more time studying and less time with that Dumbledore's Army thing you had set up."
"Can't say it didn't pay off, though," Harry said. "If I remember correctly, all those hexes and jinxes worked perfectly well on the train."
Draco glared at Harry. "It took my father forever to get me out of that mess. Whatever mixture of spells you threw at me, it was almost as bad as what Lucius did to me afterwards."
A wave of guilt washed over Harry. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't realize he'd do that to you at the time."
"Oh, it was nothing." Draco dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It's in the past, can't do anything about it. But anyways, I can help you with Potions, if you'd like. If you can understand it, it's not all that hard. You Gryffindors are just too literal and thick-headed to think on a different level."
"I resent that, you know," Harry said with a frown. "But I would like the extra help. We can talk about it later."
Draco looked confused. "Why not now?"
"Because the bell is about to ring," Harry said, packing the last of the ingredients away.
Sure enough, just as he said it, the bell rang and those who hadn't finished the assignment hastily bottled it and placed it on Snape's desk. As usual, there was a myriad of colors ranging from the deepest jet black to a glowing white. There were very few that were orange, and none were the same shade. Harry got up and left before the rest of the class, adjusting his robes so they hung loosely in front.
"That was a nightmare," Ron moaned on the way out. "I added too much frog spawn, but Hermione was able to fix most of the damage before the end."
"But it was still more of a yellow than an orange!" wailed Hermione as she raced out of the classroom. "Who knows what side effects it could have!"
"Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm sorry!" Ron called to her rapidly retreating back. "Gah, I had to mess things up again. What do we have next?" he asked Harry, looking pretty glum.
"Well, we have a thirty minute break, then Divination," Harry read from their schedule. "What to you have, Draco?"
"Break, just like you guys, then Ancient Runes, with Hermione," he recited.
"I'm going to head after Hermione, see if she'll forgive me for messing up her grade on the first day," Ron said. "See you in class!" He jogged off in the direction Hermione disappeared in, quickly getting lost in the crowd.
"Hey, I gotta go to the bathroom," Draco said.
"Okay, see you at lunch," said Harry.
"Wait. Come with me," Draco said.
Harry was confused. "Why?"
"Because. I don't want to go alone." Draco stuck his lower lip out. "Please?"
"Not like I have anything better do to," Harry said with a shrug. "You lead, I'll follow."
"Ever been to the prefect's bathroom?" Draco asked.
"Yea, once in our fourth year." Draco shot Harry a questioning look. "To figure out that golden egg. No other reason."
"Oh, right. If I let you hear the password, you won't use it for evil, will you?"
Harry smiled. "Oh yes, I'll use it to communicate with Voldemort."
"Good." Draco spoke the password ("tradition"). Harry and Draco entered the bathroom, and Harry leaned against the wall while Draco finished with his business.
"You look uncomfortable," Draco said as he came out. "Something bothering you?"
"Like you haven't noticed," Harry shot back.
"It looks like it's time for me to finish what I started in Potions," Draco said, washing his hands.
"Right here? Now?" Harry cried. "Someone could walk in at any minute!"
Draco muttered something under his breath and the inside of the door turned silver. "It's
locked," he said. "Now come here."
"Draco, are you sure?" Harry was hesitant. Sure there were spells on the door, but snogging in the middle of the prefects bathroom in the middle of the school day?
"You damn Gryffindors and your morals and values. Such boring people." Draco stepped forward and pulled Harry into a searing kiss, purposely using his hips to create friction that made Harry moan. Draco was going to have fun.
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"Harry, are you alright? You look a bit flustered," Ron said as he moved textbooks off the seat next to him so Harry could sit down. "I think you're getting sick- you've been kinda red all day."
Harry breathlessly plopped down. Draco had definitely repaid the favor, and Harry desperately hoped that along with the locking charm Draco had cast a silencing charm on the door.
"I lost track of time during the break," Harry said, which wasn't entirely a lie. "Had to rush to get here on time. How'd things go with Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.
Ron frowned. "Not so good. You know her- she couldn't survive unless she passed all her classes with over a hundred and fifty percent or more. Next time, remind me not to do anything except light the fire."
Harry smiled sympathetically. "She'll get over it by lunch. Just give her a chance to blow off some academic steam in Arithmancy."
"Ah, welcome class, to another year of looking into the future. This summer as I gazed I saw each of you returning to Hogwarts a happy and excited student, ready to enter my class with a thirst to learn," Trelawny drawled as she emerged from the curtains adorning the walls.
"Yea, she knew we'd be coming back," Ron whispered. "We registered for this class last year." Harry snickered, but felt a stab of guilt as he remembered the prophecy, and that Trelawny wasn't a complete fraud.
"This year we'll be studying the art of dream interpretation in depth, and using the tools we have practiced with to delve into the deeper mind-sets of these dreams. Now, if you could please turn to chapter one in Dream Interpretation: What Your Subconscious Is Saying . . ." Harry flipped to the page and zoned out.
"Oh, this is sure to be interesting," Seamus muttered. "What those 'special' dreams really mean . . ."
The rest of the day passed quickly, with Herbology and Transfiguration in the afternoon. In each class all the sixth and seventh year students received long lectures about their upcoming N.E.W.T.'s, and a load of homework to "set them on the path to a successful grade that will effect their career," as Professor McGonagall explained to the groaning class.
By dinner, it seemed that everyone (with the exception of Hermione, who was talking non-stop about just how exciting her classes were) was wiped out from the first day. Even Ron ate dinner at a slower pace than usual, yawning in-between bites.
"I can't wait to get back to the common room and start on McGonagall's essay," Hermione gushed, writing all her assignments down in her homework book. "Oh, and we have that prefect meeting tonight, don't forget," she said, glancing at Ron and Draco for a brief moment before returning to her furious scribbles.
Ron groaned and threw his fork down. "I'm too exhausted to go. I'll be falling asleep during the meeting." As if to emphasize his prediction, another wide yawn stretched across his face and left his eyes watering.
"Ron, you have a duty to be a prefect that–"
"–That I chose when I accepted the badge, I know, Hermione," Ron said with exasperation. "I just wish that one of our rules was that we got more sleep."
Harry kept silent as he ate his way through his shepherd's pie, fighting to keep his own eyelids open, and jumped when he felt an elbow in his side.
"You gunna make it up the stairs?" Draco said quietly, noticing Harry's peaky condition.
"You look worn out."
"I had to spend a little more energy than I would have liked to today," Harry said, glaring pointedly at Draco. The blonde was unfazed and just grinned back.
"Draco, you coming?" Ron said as he stood from the table. "The meeting starts in ten minutes."
"Yea, I'll catch up with you in a sec," he said. Discreetly he reached under the table and squeezed Harry's hand. "See you tonight," he whispered, then walked quickly out to meet Ron and Hermione.
Harry was partly grateful that he had the evening to himself, as he was too tired to keep up appearances for his friends. Excusing himself early from the meal, and waving away Seamus' curious look, Harry headed for the dorms. He knew he should get a head start on his assignments, but they weren't due for a few days. Harry thought of riding his Firebolt for a while, then remembered the new restrictions, and instead settled on heading off through the Porthole to claim a few hours extra rest before Draco came by.
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Harry woke moments before Draco entered the room, rolling over and squinting at the light beneath the door before flopping back down on the pillows.
"You must have been really tired to actually go to sleep early," Draco said with a yawn as he practically fell onto the bed beside Harry.
"Looks like you could do with some sleep, yourself," Harry said groggily. "What time is it?"
"It's nearing eleven," came the answer.
"What were you doing up so late?" Harry exclaimed. "Why didn't you come to bed sooner?"
"I wanted to finish a couple assignments before I came up," Draco explained with a yawn. "So I'm not up all night tomorrow."
"I was pooped, couldn't take it anymore, so I just came up here and went to bed," Harry
said as he snuggled into Draco. "Now, I'd like to go back to bed."
"No action?" Draco asked hopefully.
"No action, too tired."
"Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?"
"Of course." Harry lightly brushed his lips against Draco's.
"That was pathetic."
"But I'm tired," Harry whined.
"Lazy prick," Draco mumbled as he pulled Harry back in for a longer, deeper kiss.
"Mmm, that was nice," Harry whispered into the hollow of Draco's neck.
"Yea, it was."
"See you in the morning?"
"Yea. Don't leave without me."
"I won't."
"'Night, Harry."
"'Night, Draco."
So, what comes after Chapter Nine?
A major plot twist, that's what! Within the next twenty four hours, you'll see what I mean.
Review, por favor.
