Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Thanks to my lovely Bets, saFire flamE, you get the best Christmas present I can give you: the next updated chapter of Spellbound. I'll be quiet now, so you can enjoy you're Christmas treat, and I'll answer reviews at the bottom.
Disclaimer: I don't know how Harry Potter ends, therefore, I can't be JKR.
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"Hey, Draco," Harry managed, Ron still clinging to him. His face had lost all of it's color, and the glare Draco was sending at him could have made even the most stoic Gryffindor cringe. "I guess the Potion finally wore off."
"Yes, I believe it did." Draco had his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth pursed into a thin, bloodless line. "I was just coming back to get my Arithmancy book that you confiscated this morning."
"Harry," Ron mumbled, standing up. "What the bloody hell just happened?"
"Hold on, Ron," Harry said. He took a few steps forward, trying to make it so that Ron couldn't overhear, but Draco just moved back.
"Look, it's not what it looks like," Harry said, his voice soft. "The potion--"
"Whatever, Potter. Can I just have my book?"
"Draco, please--"
"Harry, what's going on?"
"Not now Ron."
"The book?" Draco said in a cold, polite tone.
"Harry--" Ron hissed warningly.
"Draco, will you just listen to me for a bloody minute--"
"I DON'T CARE IF YOU WERE SNOGGING THE FUCKING WEASEL, JUST GIVE ME MY DAMNED ARITHMANCY BOOK!" Draco roared, lunging forward. Harry shakily drew the text out of his bag, handing it to Draco with an unsteady hand. Draco wasn't his normal composed self, red patches flaring on his pale cheeks. Harry thought he glimpsed a shining wetness in Draco's eyes before the blonde turned and marched off down the hall.
"Harry?" Harry turned to see Ron leaning against the wall, expression twisted into a mask of angry confusion. "What the hell just happened there, mate?"
Harry studiously glared at the floor. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, Ron hadn't picked up on the phrase Draco had uttered right before storming off.
"We were snogging?"
No such luck.
Harry nodded, not looking up. "Yea, while you were still under the potion's effects, you gave in to Draco's feelings and started kissing me."
There was a tense silence, with only the sound of the portraits' chatter echoing off the walls.
"Harry, you and Draco are dating." It was a statement, filled with desperation and disbelief and betrayal.
"Ron, I--"
"No, I should have seen it before." Ron pushed himself off the wall but continued to keep a safe distance from Harry. "It was so obvious - you two shared the same bed, always spent time together, both always decided to break away from the group or stay at home while the rest of us went somewhere. Merlin, when Fred and George had the Spin the Bottle game going you both really went at it because you wanted to, am I right?"
Harry barely nodded, a nervous burn invading his cheeks, his breathing becoming heavier. He could hear himself, the blood rushing through his ears with every heartbeat, the heavy pant of his inhaling and exhaling.
"Look, Ron, I should have told you before -"
"Damn right you should have!" Ron threw down the heavy Divination book he had been carrying, his face contorted into a mask of fury. "Why the hell wouldn't you trust me with this Harry? Why? Why Malfoy?"
"I don't know," Harry replied, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know why I've a done a lot of things these past few months."
"I can't believe you," Ron muttered, gathering up his things. "I cannot believe any of this. I cannot believe . . . Oh Merlin, I snogged a guy. Oh jeez, this is so wrong." He began walking towards Divination, all the while grumbling to himself.
Harry paused, then ran after him. "Ron, wait." He halted as Ron stopped dead and whirled around, an expression of utmost anger distorting his normally friendly face.
"Don't you come near me, Potter. Don't even bother sitting with me in Divination. I don't want to see you. Ever. Again."
Harry froze, his mouth hanging open. Ron's figure gradually retreated down the hallway and up the staircases, but Harry didn't budge.
"Young man, you should hurry on, you're going to be late for class," advised one of the more pompous looking portraits. "You wouldn't want that to happen."
"Oh no," Harry muttered sarcastically under his breath. "Being late is such a horrible thing. Worst thing in the world." The portrait made an indignant and fled to complain to another painting.
Harry barely realized where his footsteps were taking him as he fell deep into thought, his mind running over the past ten minutes.
How can so many things happen within such a short period of time? he asked. Everything gone, just because Snape wanted to pull a stupid little joke.
Harry did a double take, almost dropping his books in the process. Snape didn't do that as a joke; he purposely did it to expose Draco and me. And it worked!
Shaking with anger, Harry turned around and ducked into the nearest deserted classroom, dumping his book in a corner and sprawling out lengthwise of top of a desk. The dust he had sent swirling into the air tickled his nose and caught the pale sunlight streaming in through the dirty window, but Harry noticed none of it.
Dumbledore must have told the faculty about the Portholes. Maybe he said something about Draco and me when he did.
Harry mentally scratched that off the list - he didn't think Dumbledore would be one to spread gossip.
Maybe it's the way Draco and I have acted lately. We've been spending a lot of time together, and . . . THAT DAY IN POTIONS!
"Shit," Harry groaned, mentally berating himself. "Snape must have seen what Draco was doing to me. That bloody--" Harry continued a colorful string of curses. Eventually he heard a mob of voices flow down the corridor, and he heard Ron's unmistakable baritone mixed with Hermione's alto. Neither sounded pleased.
Harry figured that morning classes were over, but not wanting to confront his friends, he avoided the Great Hall. Instead, he made his way towards the kitchens, bypassing Professor Trelawny on his way.
"Mr. Potter," she said, her voice sounding wounded. "I am glad I decided to venture to the Great Hall. I knew I would see you. Where were you this morning?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry, Professor. I guess I lost track of time." Harry knew it was a lame excuse, but knowing Trelawny, she'd accept anything.
"Ah, yes, the balance of the powers of Mars and Jupiter have a disquieting effect on you this month. The powers above cannot be blamed for your disregard for the rules, mind you. Detention, tonight, in the tower. You will clean the tea cups."
"Yes, Professor." Harry watched as Trelawny floated off, then sighed in resignation.
The kitchens were a bustle of activity when Harry arrived, house elves constantly refilling and washing dishes and goblets. Within seconds, though, a small group of elves were handing Harry plates and goblets, setting up a place for him to eat, and asking him if there was anything else they could do.
"No, I'm perfectly fine, thank you all--"
"Harry Potter, sir!" Harry groaned inwardly at the sound of Dobby's squeaky voice, but turned to greet the elf.
"Hey Dobby," Harry said with a forced smile. "Nice socks."
Dobby was wearing several layers of socks on his feet, the outermost being a pair covered in what looked like monkey ants, several pairs with the toes cut out on his hands, and one around his neck like a tie. He also had on an oversized pair of corduroys and a large "Wicked Sisters" 1991 tour shirt from their Bristol concert. The overall effect was a walking pile of laundry belonging to a very diverse family.
"Thank you, sir!" Dobby squealed in response. "They were all presents from Professor Dumbledore sir last Christmas!" Dobby paused, gave Harry a searching look, and frowned. "Is there something wrong with Harry Potter, sir? Harry Potter does not look very happy."
Harry paused, knowing the chaos that had resulted from Dobby's "help" in situations before. "No, Dobby," he said. "I'm just having a bad day. I'll be fine."
Dobby nodded gravely, as if he was being trusted with an immense secret. "Dobby will remember this, sir. Dobby will not let any other things bother Harry today."
"NO!" Harry said loudly, causing several of the elves to jump and glare at Dobby. "No," he continued, much more quietly, "Everything will be fine. You just stay down here and do your job, alright?"
"Of course, sir! Anything for Harry Potter." Dobby watched silently as Harry finished his lunch, then happily cleaned up the plate and goblet. "Anything else Harry Potter needs, sir?"
Yea, a Time Turner and a very powerful memory charm.
"No, Dobby. You've been great." Harry gave another rather unconvincing smile, and Dobby pranced away grinning from ear to ear.
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Harry's afternoon classes were tough to endure with Ron and Hermione avoiding him left and right. He snuck a few glances over to Hermione's table in Herbology, catching her eye for a brief moment, but she looked away before he could start a conversation.
"Hey mate, get in some kind of fight with them?" Justin Finch-Fletchy asked, looking genuinely concerned. He was working with Harry, since Ron seemed to have informed all of Gryffindor's sixth year class of Harry's predicament.
"Yea." Harry went back to shredding his Bistort leaves, his hope of talking to Hermione before things blew out of proportion waning with each passing glance. In all truth, Harry felt like throwing his handful of leaves at Ron and stalking out of the greenhouse, but he reasoned that he'd rather not have another detention.
"Do you need to talk about it?" Justin asked, his voice carefully gentle. Harry mentally rolled his eyes.
He did need to talk about it, but his predicament wasn't something he was going to discuss Justin, no matter how caring, understanding, and sympathetic he would be.
Harry shook his head, the long strands of his raven hair grazing the top of his thin wire frames. "Nah. It'll blow over soon." If pigs learn to fly within the next twenty-four hours.
On the way out the door, Harry tapped Hermione on the shoulder. Prepared for an unleashing of suppressed fury, Harry was shocked to find that the only expression on Hermione's face was shocked disappointment, the disappointment showing more clearly than the shock.
"Hermione." Harry waited for her response, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He was vaguely aware of Ron searching for Hermione in the crowd, but thankfully, he hadn't seen him as of yet.
"Harry." Hermione stared at him, her chocolate eyes boring deep into his thoughts.
"You heard?"
"Ron told me."
"Oh."
"It wasn't a very pretty picture."
"Yea. I know."
A pause. "Hermione, I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"Are you angry?"
"A little. More disappointed."
"'Mione, could you ever forgive me?" Harry's eyes seemed to plead with her, begging for a second chance.
"Harry, I--"
"Hermione, why are you talking to him?" Harry turned to see Ron striding over to them, his shaggy hair blown back by the force of his stride. "I told you, he betrayed us. He's not worth talking to."
Harry saw Hermione shake her head, then give Ron an exasperated glare. "He didn't betray us."
"Yes he did! He's dating a Slytherin. A boy. MALFOY!"
"That doesn't indicate betrayal, Ron."
"He lied to us!"
At this Hermione fell silent, averting her gaze from either boys'. "Yes, he did do that, Ron."
Harry was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his two friends (Former friends? he thought) talking about him in front of his face, but he was sure that if he disappeared now, he wouldn't have too many more chances to talk to Hermione without Ron interrupting.
"Hermione, we have to get to class." Ron grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her along after him, and Hermione threw a look over her shoulder that said "I need to talk to you later." Harry nodded, then walked with Justin back up to the castle.
Harry's dinner closely mimicked his lunch, a rushed meal in the busy kitchens with Dobby chattering away at light speed. Harry was grateful for the noise; he didn't have to pay close attention to his own distraught thoughts.
He found his way back to the deserted dorm with half an hour left until people returned from the day's third meal. Taking care not to leave anything behind, Harry crept through the Porthole without disturbing the sheets on his bed. He went to his own room, the one he hadn't slept in as of yet, and arranged everything as he would need it later that night. He then went back to the frame of his Porthole, flattening himself against the wall, and waited.
Harry heard the footsteps pounding up the tower stairs before the door was thrown open and the crowd of boys that normally occupied Harry's dorm thundered in.
"Ron, you can't be serious. Harry wouldn't do something like that," Dean said.
Harry could clearly hear all the voices, and he was glad he knew his dorm mates enough to distinguish between them.
"Well, he did. He's a bloody fag." Harry winced when he heard the malice that laced Ron's voice.
"Oh, come on now, that's going a wee bit overboard." Harry smiled as he hard Seamus' Irish brogue come floating through the window. At least one person was defending him.
"Just because he fancies boys doesn't mean he's a horrible person," stated Neville.
"Yea, I fancy boys." Harry suppressed a laugh. That would be Seamus.
"But you also like girls."
"Well, both are gorgeous."
"Anyways, Harry's preference shouldn't make or break your friendship, Ron. It's not like he's going after you." Desperate hope blossomed in Harry's chest as he heard Dean say this.
"Yea, but he went after Malfoy! That's disgusting!"
"Actually, Malfoy is not a bad choice. In fact--"
"Seamus, shut up." Harry agreed with Neville on this one. He didn't need to hear people obsessing over his boyfriend, whether past or present.
"And on top of it all, he lied to us!" Harry felt the twisting knife slash open his stomach. He'd had his share of unknowingly being kept unknowingly in the dark, and he knew how it felt.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, and Harry heard several sighs as books were thrown in trunks.
"Yea. That definitely makes me feel like someone hit me over the head with a brick."
"Why would Harry do that?"
"Doesn't he trust us?"
"It's probably because of Malfoy's influence."
"Maybe there was something dangerous about telling people. You know, like, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could use it for blackmail. Or that Rita Skeeter woman."
"Neville, will you stop sticking up for him? He's not worth it."
"Ron, maybe you should get the entire story before you blow up over this. Have you even heard Harry's side?"
"No, I haven't." His tone made it clear that he didn't want to, either.
"You should."
Harry heard heavy footsteps cross the room and the door open and slam, then more silence.
"Good going, Neville. Now two of our dorm mates want nothing to do with us."
"Shut up, Seamus."
"Guys, stop. There's enough going on already, we don't need some stupid fight breaking up the three of us as well."
Harry left after Dean's last words, peering quietly through Draco's Porthole. There was no sign of life in the dark, emerald-decorated dungeon, so he went back to his room.
When he opened the door, he immediately found a piece of parchment covered in Hermione's tidy scrawl lying on top of his schoolbooks. Wondering as to how it got there, Harry picked it up and read over it quickly.
Harry--
I've only heard Ron's side of the story, and I'm afraid to make any assumptions before I hear your side, but as of right now, I don't know what to think.
"That makes two of us," Harry muttered to no one in particular.
I can't say that I completely accept your relationship with Draco. It isn't because I don't like him or trust him; he's proven himself both friendly and trustworthy numerous times. I'm just not used to the idea yet, especially in the way that it was presented to me. I need to talk to you before I come to a final conclusion about that.
I'm not angry, as I told you earlier. But I am disappointed. I'm disappointed that you didn't believe that Ron and I would accept you and Draco if you had just told us straight out when it all started. Friends don't hide things like that Harry - it's like not telling us that you finally defeated Voldemort, or something along those lines.
I'm pretty sure Ron feels the same way I do, but he's confusing his emotions. I can tell by looking at him that he's hurt more than he is angry or disgusted, but he doesn't want to acknowledge or admit it.
I can't tell you when I'll come to terms with all of this, or when the anger will dissipate. But I do want to talk to you face to face, though. Don't owl me back - I have a prefects meeting tonight and won't be able to respond, and I'd rather not have Parvati and Lavender opening my mail. I'll owl you when I get a chance.
-Hermione
Harry closed the letter and tucked it inside his bag, then scribbled a quick note that he wouldn't be at the open Quidditch pitch that night because he had detention with Trelawny. Harry checked to make sure that no one was in the dorm room, placed the note on Ron's bed, and hurried out of Gryffindor Tower without looking anyone in the eye.
Detention did anything but clear Harry's mind. The task was menial and required no thought, therefore leaving Harry's conscious to wander through the various problems at hand.
By the end of the detention, Harry's mind was thick with the scent of tea leaves and heavy perfume from the Divination Tower, but he made his way towards the dungeons all the same.
Upon entering the Potions classroom, the haze in Harry's head lifted immediately, the stinging cold permeating the school robes with no difficulty. The door leading to Snape's office was shut, but Harry knocked, his pulse racing.
There was no answer the first time, but the door swung open on Harry's second knock. Snape glared down at Harry, a sneer twisting his lips, obviously irked at being disturbed.
"What are you doing down here, Potter? Certainly you realize that your curfew is steadily approaching, and your Occlumency lessons aren't until later in the week. I dare say you're not here to get an early start, though Merlin knows you'll need it."
Harry pursed his lips, willing the anger rising within to subside before the Potion bottles sitting on Snape's desk exploded. "Actually, I came here to talk to you about the Proteus potion that we finished today."
Snape raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to continue.
"You had us brew that Potion just so you could use it on Ron and Draco and reveal Draco and me, didn't you?"
Snape showed no reaction to this statement, other than his eyes flashing triumphantly. "Why, Mr. Potter, I had no idea there was anything between you and Mr. Malfoy other than friendship. That is certainly news to me."
"I don't think so," Harry retorted, his eyes narrowing. "You did it because you didn't like seeing me and Draco together, but there was no way you could interfere, being a teacher, so you just had to destroy us in one way or another."
"There is no reason why I would take interest in the personal affairs of a student, Mr. Potter," Snape replied coldly, his dark eyes exuding hatred, "but I can say I do not know what Mr. Malfoy sees in you."
"That gives you no right to do what you did." Harry's fists were now clenched at his sides, knuckles cracking in an effort not to hit anything.
"If the potion we brewed today effected your life in any way, I'm am sorry, but--"
"You did it on purpose!" Harry yelled, and the ingredients cabinet along the back wall shook a little. "You knew perfectly well what was going to happen, and you did it so that Draco and I wouldn't be together anymore!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for insubordination." Snape's eyes glinted like polished obsidian in the dim, flickering torchlight of the classroom. "Now, Mr. Potter, I suggest that you return to your dorm, before you lose more points for breaking curfew, or otherwise."
Harry turned on his heel, stalking out of the classroom and through the dungeons with brisk speed, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
"Oh look, it's wee Potty out for a nighttime stroll in the dungeons." Harry heard Pansy's whiny voice echo off the walls, but didn't bother to look for her. "Is the little ferret not coming home to his Potty tonight?"
Harry's anger rose immediately, and he felt the energy fly from him as a vase exploded. The shrieks, screamed threats, and then fearful silence that followed made him mentally smile, and he concluded that his visit to the dungeons hadn't been completely fruitless.
When Harry climbed through the portrait hole, the noise in the common room all but ceased, and Harry felt the eyes of his housemates follow him up the stairs. Harry didn't look at one of them. The dorm was empty, again, and Harry climbed through the Porthole without a backwards glance.
Knocking on Draco's door, Harry was torn between wanting to see Draco and afraid to face the Slytherin's wrath. Either way, the door remained shut, even when Harry tried to open it manually and with unlocking spells.
"Draco," he called, slumping against the door. "Draco, it's me, open up, will you? I want to explain."
Silence. Harry didn't hear anything when he pressed his ear to the door, either.
So he's either sitting as still as can be, or he found some way to lock the room even when I'm not there. Joy. Harry sighed and disappeared into his room, resigning himself to a night full of homework, worry, and insomnia.
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The next morning when Harry got up, Draco had already gone, leaving no sign that he had even been there the night before. Harry listened through the Porthole again, waiting for the others to get up. It was almost seven before he heard any sign of life in the room, and eavesdropped on the conversation as he had done the night before.
"Doesn't look like Harry came in at all last night; the curtains are still open and the bed doesn't look slept in."
"I didn't hear him come in."
"Maybe he came in late and left early."
"Oh, give it up, Neville. He was probably out screwing with the ferret."
At this several exclamations were made, and although all of them were in Harry's defense, Harry still felt a lump rise in his throat.
"You know Harry's not like that, Ron, just calm down. There's probably a reason, a perfectly innocent reason, why he's not here."
"Besides, Draco hasn't been seen with Harry at all in the past twenty-four hours. They still haven't patched things up."
Harry waited for the rest of the morning chatter to subside before he levered himself into the dorm, grabbed his shower things, and headed for the Quidditch locker room.
Harry's entire day mimicked the second half of the day previous: meals were taken in the kitchens with Dobby as a meal partner and Harry sat with various people from other houses in all of his classes. Harry was grateful that none of his classes that Tuesday were with the Slytherins.
By the end of the school day, Harry was emotionally drained and dreading the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. The dormitory again empty, Harry had taken the opportunity to throw himself face first onto his bed, pull the curtains shut, and groan. He felt as if his thoughts were too numerous to fit in his head, a feeling that was becoming increasingly familiar as each day passed.
Ron, Hermione, and Draco were avoiding him constantly. He knew the others, with the exception of Seamus, were wary of sleeping in the same room who was now admittedly gay. Seamus was avoiding him partly because he didn't like Draco, and partly because he was jealous.
Harry sighed and rolled over, his fingers worrying the edge of the worn comforter. Giving up trying to organize his thoughts, he crawled out of bed and over to his trunk.
Where are those damned jellybeans? Harry searched, hoping the sugar rush would cure his low spirits, when something sharp scraped across his open palm.
Harry jerked his hand out of the trunk, examining the shallow cut as blood began to pool in the groove. Harry licked the blood away and used his other hand to push back the contents of his trunk.
At the bottom were the jagged shards of Sirius' two way mirror. One of the sharper edges had fallen next to Harry's candy stash. Reaching in, Harry took the piece out, turning it over and over between his hands.
Merlin, I just have to go and mess everything up, don't I? Draco hates me, Ron and Hermione hate me, hell, even the other guys who fancy boys hate me. I'm even a failure at being gay. Harry sat in front of the trunk lost in self deprecating thoughts for quite some time.
"Harry?" Harry, who hadn't noticed anybody come in, jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Neville stood behind him, pale, with a concerned look on his face.
"Oh, 'lo Neville," Harry said carefully, not wanting to scare the boy away. This was the first time they had spoken in days. "What are you doing up here? Isn't it time for supper?"
Neville nodded. "Yea. I just came up here to get my scarf before - what did you do to yourself?!"
Harry was taken aback. "What are you talking about?" he asked, incredulous.
"Your hand! It's all bloody!" Neville grabbed Harry's hand and pointed to it, as is Harry couldn't see the dried red stains for himself.
Harry shrugged. "Oh that? I just cut myself, no big deal."
"You cut?!" Neville exclaimed. "You idiot! I know that what you're going through can't be fun, but that's no reason to draw blood from your own hand! Especially not with dirty piece of old broken glass like that. It's probably covered in germs and bacteria and - what's so funny?"
Harry, who had slowly gone from confused shock to realizing that Neville had misinterpreted him, finally began to chuckle, then laugh, and had collapsed on the bed in fits by the time Neville noticed.
"Oh, Neville, no, I appreciate the concern, but that's not what happened." Harry motioned for Neville pull up a chair, but instead his dorm-mate decided to sit on the bed next to him. "I didn't purposely cut myself. I was reaching into my trunk to get something to eat, and a piece of a broken mirror sliced my palm. It's nothing big, it just needs to be cleaned."
Neville smiled sheepishly. "I . . . I've just been worried about you ever since Ron told us about you and Draco. You seemed to want to be left alone, and I know how you like your space, and I didn't want to intrude, so . . ."
Harry gave a small smile. "I understand. I can be a complete bastard sometimes, can't I?"
Neville opened and closed his mouth a few times before reddening slightly and blushing. Harry laughed.
"Do you want me to bandage that for you?" Neville offered, and Harry accepted.
They sat in companionable silence, Neville looking for his healing creams, before either spoke. Neville broke the silence.
"So, is it true, everything that Ron said?" Neville asked, his voice quiet.
"I dunno what he said," Harry admitted, avoiding Neville's gaze, "but most of it probably is."
"Well, I for one want to know the truth." Neville returned to the bed, bandages and creams in hand, and started to dress the cut. "What happened? From what I've heard, it sounds like a big misunderstanding."
Harry smiled. Neville was sharper than Harry had given him credit for, and was currently the only one who was willing to listen to the full story. It took a good while, even with Harry leaving out the part about the Portholes, but the story spilled out without interruption. By the end of it, Harry felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest and he seemed to breath a little easier.
"So you and Draco have kept this a secret for months?!" Neville asked. "I'm impressed; usually stuff can't stay secret around here for more than a day."
Harry sighed. "It was tough, especially trying to keep it from Ron and Hermione."
Neville frowned. "That was stupid thing to do."
"Yea," said Harry. "But I was afraid that they would react like they did."
"You need to put more faith in your friends than that." Neville had finished bandaging the cut and admired his handiwork. "Coming out would have been hard, I know, but they are your friends for a reason."
Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think they would have a problem with me being gay. I mean, it would take some adjusting, but they accept Seamus for being bi. No, I think the major reason is that it's Draco."
"But we've all been hanging out with him since school started, and he's not the arrogant bastard he once was. What would they have against him?"
"All those years of animosity between us. Ron's still a bit sore, you know he never forgets anything like that. But I really thought Hermione would be over it." Harry buried his face in his hands. "I ruined everything."
Harry felt Neville's hand collide solidly with the back of his head, creating a loud THWACK!
"Oh, stop moping. This is all fixable. It's just not going to be one of those overnight things." Neville stood up and leaned against the bedpost, then fell into thought for a long moment.
"When did you realize you were gay?" Harry's head snapped up, and his eyes searched Neville's for any sort of anger and hurt. Finding none, he answered.
"I didn't realize it." Harry thought back to when he and Draco had been talking, that first night Draco had come to him for help. "I was just attracted to him, something about him drew me to him, and I remember thinking at first that what I felt was wrong. But then he kissed me, and it just felt so right."
Harry looked up at Neville. "I never really thought about being gay. And it wasn't because of Cho, because I was definitely attracted to her at the time. I guess . . . I just followed what I felt, and it started out as liking, but now it's something deeper. I - I can't explain it."
"Do you love him?" Neville asked. "Could you spend the rest of your life with him?"
Closing his eyes, Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe what I feel could be love, but I blew my chance. Draco wants nothing to do with me now, and I'm pretty sure nothing I do or say will fix it."
"Cheer up. Give him some time to cool off, get him to listen to you, and things will get better." Neville smiled reassuringly. "If things were that serious between you, you'll make up."
"I hope." Harry stood up, stretching. "Thanks, Neville. This has helped, it really has." Harry offered his hand for a handshake, but Neville pulled him into a hug.
"Friends don't shake hands. It's too formal." Harry laughed and gripped Neville tighter, glad that someone was willing to accept him for who he was.
"So we can add one more homosexual to the list."
Neville and Harry turned to see Ron leaning against the doorframe, sneering at them. I thought you were better than that, Neville."
"Oh, Ron, get over yourself," Neville retorted, his voice ice-cold. "Harry is your best friend. Just hear him out."
"Was. Was my best friend." Glaring, Ron stalked over to the pair. "Best friends don't keep secrets from each other, especially about something like that." Ron poked Harry in the chest. "Especially about being gay with their worst enemy."
"Ron, Voldemort is my worst enemy," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "And I'm not dating him." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville trying to suppress a laugh. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not dating anybody right now."
"You don't deserve to, not after taking advantage of me like that." Ron stepped back. "You're a bloody whore."
"If I remember correctly," Harry spat, the blood rising to his face as he struggled to keep his voice calm, "You were the one who forced me up against the wall."
"Only because that's what Malfoy's emotions wanted to do!"
"You didn't see Draco snogging Hermione!"
"That's not my fault!"
"At least he has some self control!"
"Oh yes, let's defend the ferret!"
"Don't call him that!"
"You've never had a problem with it before."
"I've never had a problem with you before."
"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP!" Neville shouted, hands over his ears. "This has bloody got to stop!"
"Yes, it does, Harry," Ron fumed. "Once that faggot figures out that his ex is a filthy liar, maybe I'll speak to him again."
"Ron, no--" Harry began, but Ron cut him off.
"You're a traitor, Neville." With that, Ron stormed out of the room, leaving a seething Neville and a despairing Harry in his wake.
"What did I tell you?" Harry whispered, fighting back tears. "It's hopeless."
Neville gave a wan, unsteady smile. "It'll get better, promise. Now, let's go get some supper. I'm starved."
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Harry found that, although sitting with Neville meant that Ron and Hermione sat with other members of the Gryffindor house, at least Dean and Seamus weren't shy about reconciling their friendship with Harry.
"Sorry about that whole thing, mate," Seamus said around a mouthful of meat pie. "I know we were acting like jerks, but you didn't seem to want to sit with us in class. I thought it best to keep our distance 'til things cooled off."
Harry shrugged. "No hard feelings, guys. After what Ron must've said, I can imagine no one wanted to be around me."
"Not really," Dean interjected. "A lot of us wanted to see what was going on, but we've seen you in moods before. We didn't want to provoke you."
"Cowards," Neville muttered, grinning. "It's not like he'd bite."
"Yea, but he could probably hex us. You saw what he did to Malfoy on the train last year." Seamus looked at Harry in mock awe. "It was just amazing."
"Oh, sod off, Finnegan," Dean groaned. "You're flirting with him. Leave the poor man alone, at least until he's been single for a week."
"Speaking of which," Seamus said, his voice becoming much softer and more sympathetic, "what's going on between you and Draco?"
Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, where Draco was conversing with several of the prospective Quidditch players that were planning to try out that year. In no way did he show remorse, sadness, regret, or even anger. He didn't so much as shift his eyes in Harry's direction. In fact, he was sitting with his back towards Gryffindor table.
"I don't think I'll be talking to him anytime soon, but I don't know what's going on with us, our relationship." Harry ran his hand through his hair while he mashed his peas into his casserole with a knife. "He won't talk to me, acknowledge my presence, anything. It's like I don't exist, all over again."
"All over again? When did you ever not exist to him?" Dean asked. "I thought he's been bothering you all these years."
Harry paused; Dean had raised an interesting point. "It's never been in friendship, though. He's always been torturing me."
"You know what they say," Seamus said, innuendo lacing his voice, "boys always bully the person they like."
"Come off it, Seamus," Neville said rolling his eyes. "It is true, though. He's been obsessed with you since before you set foot in Hogwart's. The distance between love and hatred is as thin as paper."
All three boys looked at Neville, and he blushed a dark crimson. "What? It's true."
"Never heard you say anything profound like that before, mate," Seamus said with a shrug. "Maybe there are a few brains knocking about in that thick skull of yours."
The rest of the meal continued in a friendly banter, and Harry smiled for the first time since the confrontation in the hallway the day before.
"Hey, don't you have Quidditch tryouts tonight?" Dean asked as they were exiting the Great Hall.
"Yea," Harry answered, the knife twisting around again. "That's where I'm headed now. You all can come watch, if you'd like."
"Nah, I have to finish my Herbology homework," Neville explained. "Tell me about it later tonight, ok?"
"Sure." Harry turned to leave the group when he heard Seamus and Dean call for him to wait up.
"Thought you might want some company," Dean said. "You know, since you have to work with the flaming idiot of a Weasel for the next few hours."
"Flaming idiot?" Harry asked incredulously. "Has he been that bad?"
"Worse," Seamus interjected. "He won't shut up about it."
"Well, he'll have to shut up enough to make it through the tryouts," said Harry with a sigh.
"You don't think he'll skip, do you?" Dean wondered as they walked under the stands and onto the pitch.
"Nope," Harry said, gazing up at the myriad of players zooming around in the twilight. "It's Quidditch."
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AsTheyreFalling: This story has been posted in several different places, and thanks to some wonderful fans it's had great word of mouth. Here's the next chapter, just like you asked!
SaFire flamE: Chica, without you, I would have never finished this chapter on time! Thank you for doing such a wonderful beating job. You deserve a chocolate covered Harry, for sure.
Starrarose: Don't you hate the restrictions? Life is life, though, and that's why we also have personal websites! And thank you, it does mean a lot to me.
MachiavellianOrange: Thanks for letting me know about the typo. I told you guys I'm the typo queen.
PeachDander82: I try to keep the story as canon as I can, because I feel that if I deviate too much, it won't be believable. Y gracias muy mucho.
Madam Whitbrook: Well, Hope this little bit of more is good!
Cherry0214: Well, aren't you just the most manipulative little reviewer? Begging and crying . . . Sheesh, you know how to get an authoress to work. ;) I love the way you try to guess stuff . . . It makes me all happy and stuff. Weird . .
Flutter Flute: It's a long story, and it takes a few good sit downs to get through it, but I'm guessing it's worth it! And don't worry about the corny thing, I do that kind of stuff all the time. I SOUND LIKE JKR! DUDE, THAT'S THE BESTEST COMPLIMENT EVER! Remind me when we get closer to the end to tell you how I came up with the title. You won't believe it.
Moonglow-girl: Yea, the reactions were a bit . . . Dramatic. But I love my boy toys . . I can make 'em drama kings if I want. Ehehehehe.
Volleypickle16: That is one original name . . . I hope to keep making a great story, so keep on reading.
Matt: Music on the radio is what makes us all happy and such . . . hums Mary did You Know because a really hot guy sang it at church this evening
Riley: I HAVE ANOTHER OBSESSOR! Whoo . . . My fans are catching my highly contagious diseases! Oops . .
RainyDayRena: I love it when people hear about my stuff through word of mouth! Any chance remembering who told you about it? I myself didn't get much into fan fiction until very recently, actually, it was about March this past year, and look at me now! I never knew Spellbound would turn into something like this, but hey, I'm not complaining! I'd love to have you beta, but I need your e-mail (and IM) if possible. If you don't want to post it here, just e-mail me at kickchick214 aol. Com
Meels on Wheels: I tried to e-mail you chapter 11 to beta, but the e-mail was invalid. I understand about the mid-terms, and that's why SB has been late lately - it takes awhile to write 15-20 page chapters. A Note From The Cast is so much fun to write, especially with all the material out there. Mind if you send me the link to "Snitch"? I dunno if I've read that one . . .
Tom4ever: I LOVE YOUR NAME! And as for the Harry Draco situation, more to come chapter after this . . .
Daja Green: Yea, I have a little poetry obsession (I even wrote that entire Sorting Hat song, that's how much I like it). It has been awhile since I've updated frequently, especially since I had to repost everything, but life is now back on schedule! Yay!
KK, review (it'll be my Christmas present!). HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
