Author's Note: I don't know if the POV switch gets confusing for you guys, so I'll try to put whose POV it is at the beginning of the chapter. This is Harry.

Chapter 14

Harry woke up to a sharp prodding in his side. Ugh. What did it take to get a little sleep around here? He groaned and tried to pull his pillow over his head, only to have it yanked out from under him and thrown at his back.

"Potter!"

Harry groaned again.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, wake up!"

Harry rolled over to face a rather rumpled-looking Malfoy, whose hair was sticking up in the most undignified manner and clothes were haphazardly thrown on. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy look like that, and he'd seen Malfoy look like a lot of things. It would actually be kind of amusing if Harry weren't so bone-tired... he had spent the night before falling in and out of sleep, worrying and mulling until his head started to hurt. Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy—he couldn't get the damned Slytherin out of his dreams. Besides, even if Harry had done so, he'd only wake up to find Malfoy's sleeping form right next to him, which would have obviously been no help whatsoever.

So far, Harry had been unable to come to a definite conclusion on his sexuality, but he was rather positive that he fancied Malfoy somehow. Although, Harry didn't believe that he was completely gay... Oh, he didn't know. It had all been so muddled... The confirmation of his feelings hadn't come to him until about 3 AM, when Harry had been in one of his "out of sleep" modes, lying awake and staring at the overhang canopy with frustration—Malfoy's hand had shot out and grabbed his. Harry had spent a good fifteen minutes keeping dead still, terrified that Malfoy was trying to trick him. But after realising that the other boy was truly asleep, Harry had noticed that Malfoy's hand was rather soft. And warm... Really nice, to be honest. Thinking about it now, Harry remembered the way Malfoy's fingers had curled around his and it sent unrestrained tingles down his back.

"What's the big rush anyway?" Harry grumbled, burrowing his face into the sheets with a sigh. He didn't want to think of it now.

"If you must know, Potter, we're late." Malfoy was rifling through his trunk, trying to locate something seemingly to no avail. "We slept through breakfast and our first class is in ten minutes—now get your fucking arse out of bed!"

"What?" Harry sat up quickly, throwing his covers from his body and rolling off the mattress. He shivered when his feet came in contact with the cool floor. "I thought Blaise and Nott were supposed to wake us up if we slept in!"

Malfoy scowled, grabbing a bottle of gel for his hair and tossing it back on the ground when he found it empty. "The bastards thought it'd be a good laugh, I bet. Damn it, where is my bag?"

Harry tossed him the sack lying next to his trunk, grumbling to himself as he began searching the floor for his own things. Perfect. As if the disorientation from the previous night's lack of sleep wasn't enough, he'd have to rush around if he wanted to get to class on time. And he hadn't even done his homework. Harry sighed. Today just wasn't his day.

By now, Malfoy had already finished dressing, and Harry was still looking for his school shirt. He made a noise of irritation as he searched. It was a bad habit of his to throw around his things and scatter them about at random; Malfoy was always reprimanding him for it. To be fair, Harry had never really had a reason to rush in the morning. Damn. He vaguely recalled almost tearing off a button from the crisp linen before he stepped into the showers, eager to feel the warm water against his skin, but where had he put it after that? Think!

"Come on, Potter, we've got less than five minutes now!"

Harry glanced around once more and sighed. It was no use. There was no way that he could locate every article of clothing he needed in time—he'd just get both himself and Malfoy into trouble for being late. With conviction, Harry picked up his rumpled school robes from his chair and threw it around his shoulders. "All right, I'm ready. Let's go," he announced.

Malfoy looked at him with mild shock and disgust. "Are you serious? Put some trousers on, at least," he snapped.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't find any. Do you want to be late?"

Malfoy grimaced and shook his head.

"All right," Harry said. "So let's go. Stop playing with your hair. You know that McGonagall will skewer us alive if we're late to her class again." He shuddered at the thought of Professor McGonagall's stern face. The last time he and Malfoy had been late for Transfigurations, McGonagall had lectured them for a good ten minutes after class, and they'd both been in shock for at least an hour after that.

Malfoy shot him a dirty look for the hair jab, and then both boys picked up their bags and dashed from the dorm, barreling down the stairs two at a time. Harry pushed past a few stray students as they ran through the common room without even bothering to stop and apologise. There was something so thrilling about it; the adrenaline pumped through his veins as they left the portrait and ran down the corridor together. Harry reckoned that he and Malfoy looked rather ridiculous as they did so, but he didn't care. They had just sprinted around the corner to the corridor outside the Transfigurations room when they heard the final bell ring. Harry swore and tripped, dropping everything in his hands.

"Fuck!"

"Get up, Potter!"

Harry only tripped again. Malfoy swore too and doubled back, helping Harry gather his things. Both boys stumbled and hopped and fumbled over themselves; Malfoy even picked up Harry's last textbook with a back roll into a standing position—Harry would've found it quite impressive if he hadn't already been so strung out. After gathering everything and breaking into sprints again, both Harry and Malfoy skidded in front of the door to the classroom, pushing it open and almost falling in, with choked breaths. At the accidental grand entrance, everyone turned around and stared at them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall's hard gaze was upon them. Next to him, Harry felt Malfoy shift uneasily. Damn. McGonagall raised an eyebrow and looked them over. "How nice of you to join us," she remarked. "I can assume that neither of you are late to my class for reasons of personal hygiene."

Harry heard some snickers throughout the classroom at that. He looked at Malfoy and then down at himself—they did look rather horrid. The marathon run from the Slytherin dorms had left both of them heaving and gasping for air. Harry's own robes were crinkled and he was wearing two different shoes, and Malfoy's hair was still sticking up in the most un-Malfoy manner, his robes astray and... Harry's eyes widened. Malfoy was wearing Harry's Gryffindor tie. Harry glanced down to his own chest and groaned. Slytherin colours. Of course.

He raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's, and it seemed that the other boy had just noticed the same thing, judging by the matching expression of dismay on his face. Malfoy's silver eyes were flashing dangerously. "Erm..." Harry choked.

"You threw me the wrong bag!" Malfoy hissed.

Harry frowned in confusion and held up his. "No, I didn't. This is mine and that's yours... I don't understand, I specifically remember placing my tie in my bag and yours in your bag last night before bed."

Malfoy gave him a look. "Are you sure? You tend to forget to put your glasses back on after you shower."

Harry glared at him. "I'm positive! Besides, didn't you put an anti-crease spell on them? It could have been you!"

"It wasn't me!"

"Well, they didn't switch by themselves!" Harry exclaimed.

Malfoy started to say something, but then stopped and scowled darkly instead. "Blaise," he muttered.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, but Harry could tell that she was slightly surprised by the domesticity of their conversation. "As much as I enjoy seeing the two of you finally get along, I'll have to ask you both to sit down," she said sternly. "We'll discuss this after class again." McGonagall glanced them over and sighed irritably, turning away towards the board. "And for Merlin's sake, switch your ties."

There were more snickers as both Harry and Malfoy shamefully pulled off their ties and switched them, all the while not looking the other in the eye. With no available seats left, the boys took a workstation to themselves. Harry took special care to spread his parchments around the desk to look even more occupied than usual—he didn't want to give his Head of House any more reason to reprimand him.

"This is just brilliant," Malfoy muttered to him, after McGonagall had started the lesson. His face was in his hands, but Harry could see the blush had not yet faded from his fair complexion. "We're a laughingstock. As always."

Harry shook his head. "Sorry about the ties. I mean, it could have been me."

Malfoy looked up and grimaced. "Oh, we both know it wasn't you. Besides, we had it coming—look at us! We've shown up looking like the ghosts of Hogwarts past hadn't gotten enough sleep for the past decade after walking through a blizzard." He glanced down at himself and gasped. "And I'm wearing last week's robes! Why didn't you tell me? Can't believe I actually left the dorm looking like this."

Harry chuckled quietly. "Can't believe you actually left the dorm with your hair looking like that."

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "Ah, fuck. Now I look like you." Harry laughed and shoved him. At the noise, McGonagall turned and glared at them with warning. They both stared down at their notes and shut up for the rest of class, although Harry occasionally felt Malfoy bump up against his leg.

~x~

Neither boy had any time to go straighten up after their first class, so Harry had already gone through half of his day wearing only pants underneath his robes. He felt strangely uncomfortable as if at any time his robes could fly off his body and expose him; he panicked whenever someone got too close. It had gotten to the point where he had even jumped back from Ron when the boy had tried to brush some lint from his shoulder. Furthermore, Harry had spent his lunch and free classes scurrying to finish his neglected homework. He hadn't really done anything productive the day before, and now he was paying the price big time.

After throwing together his Potions essay due at the end of the day, Harry fast-walked to Marriage Sex and Family in hopes that he'd bump into Malfoy before class. Evidently, Malfoy had the same idea and caught up with him in the corridor. The other boy waved at him.

"Potter!" he shouted.

Harry slowed down and waited for him. "I was just coming to find you," he said, without glancing up. Truthfully, Harry didn't want to look at Malfoy's face and have an embarrassing reaction, especially since he wasn't wearing much—Malfoy was just so damned pretty, even with his hair all mussed up. And if Harry's anatomy decided to betray him in these garments, well, it wouldn't be much of a secret.

Malfoy made a noise of aggravation. "Do you realise that we're the talk of the school today?"

Harry's head snapped up. "What? Why?" he asked.

Malfoy sighed and ran his hand through his loose hair. "You know, for what happened this morning," he explained. "People have been fucking it up and retelling the story with the wildest twists. I overheard Millicent Bulstrode telling Daphne Greengrass that we were holding hands when we walked in and that our lips had been swollen from excessive snogging. Naturally, I hexed her for her trouble. I mean, honestly. It's ridiculous."

Harry blushed. "Shit. If only Blaise and Nott had woken us up! Have you seen them?"

Malfoy growled. "No. But we will see them this class. I'll give them a piece of my mind, and of my stinging hex."

Harry grinned. "I'm with you there."

They nodded at each other, both smiling at the peculiarity of the situation. Who would have ever thought that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would team up to hex someone other than each other? It would have seemed impossible a few months ago. But then again, thought Harry with some amusement, it would have seemed impossible for us to become civil with each other too. They walked in together and Harry scanned the area for their targets.

"Zabini!" Malfoy roared.

Harry whipped around to look in the direction that Malfoy was glaring at. Blaise was standing next to Hermione, smirking, his arms folded across his chest. He appeared strangely calm. Harry shook his head. The boy obviously had a death wish. "Hello, Draco," Blaise greeted smoothly.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake us up this morning?" Malfoy demanded.

Blaise shrugged. "I thought you guys were already awake. I had no idea this would happen. Dear me."

Malfoy growled. "I swear to Merlin, I will hex you in your sleep if you ever—"

"If I ever what, Draco? Let you and Harry remain in each other's arms for another half an hour? Really, why are you complaining?"

"Nobody is remaining in anybody's arms!" Malfoy snapped.

Blaise smirked. "Oh yeah? Tell that to the polaroids I took last week. You two really are adorable."

Malfoy looked as if he'd been set on fire. "You're kidding, you don't have anything on us—"

"Would you like to wager on that?"

"Get over here, you little prick!"

"No, prat."

"Tosser!"

"Bastard!"

"All right, all right," Harry interjected, halting the flow of insults. The conversation was getting too loud and too embarrassing for his taste; they were starting to draw a crowd. Harry turned to look at Blaise, crossing his arms in an attempt to appear more intimidating. Unfortunately, the other boy was not phased. "Blaise, that was not funny," Harry scolded. "You do know that you've caused us unnecessary humiliation that will likely follow us for, I don't know, a week?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Of course he knows. He's a Slytherin. It's essentially mandatory protocol in our House handbook."

"You have a House handbook?" Harry asked dumbly.

Malfoy gave him a dry look.

Blaise laughed. "You two should really thank me. You got extra sleep! Besides, it's not like I personally made you wear each other's ties."

Malfoy got all red in the face. "You—"

"Hey," Nott interrupted, walking up and patting Malfoy on the shoulder in greeting. The blond whirled around and glared at him.

"Nott!" Malfoy bellowed.

Obviously taken aback, the other Slytherin recoiled with his hands up in surrender. "What?" Nott asked, already defensive. "I hadn't done anything."

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I know. Just like you hadn't woken us up this morning."

The colour seemed to drain out of Nott's face as he glanced over at Blaise nervously. The other boy just grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't think anything would come of it—oh for the sake of—" Nott's eyes widened. "Put that away!"

Harry glanced over, belatedly noticing that Malfoy had his wand ready. In one swift movement, Harry snatched it out of his hand and placed it back in the boy's robes. He was all for getting revenge, of course, but class would be starting any minute—Malfoy couldn't afford to be seen in an antagonising position. "Snape," he hissed in warning.

Malfoy glared at him. "It was only going to be a little one," he argued.

"Don't worry. I've got an idea." Harry smiled and lowered his voice. "Itching powder in the pants. Hilarious and invasive."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "You've done it before?"

"Yeah. It's one of Seamus's favourites." Harry winced at a memory. "Trust me, it gets everywhere."

Malfoy looked intrigued. He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then, Snape appeared in the doorway. Malfoy simply raised his eyebrows at Harry and shifted away as Snape walked briskly to the front of the room and eyed them all with unveiled disdain.

"Class has begun. Sit down."

At that moment, Harry could swear that the room's temperature had plummeted just from the icy tone of Snape's voice. He nudged Malfoy's shoulder to get him moving and Malfoy shot one last glare at his Slytherin friends before nodding at Harry and turning to go sit at their bench. Harry followed him.

Snape pursed his lips and waited for the students to get situated before speaking again. "Today, you will be conducting one of several different trust exercises with your partner," he said. "Your assignment is to evaluate how much trust is present in your relationship and how that has come to be. Your analysis will be in essay form, due the day after the last exercise."

Harry tried to suppress a groan. More work to do. He was falling way behind on his studies with all of his thoughts busying him and Rebecca and—Wait. Rebecca! He and Malfoy hadn't even thought about her this morning. They hadn't fed her or given her her morning bath! What if she was rotting to death? Or shit, what if she spontaneously burst into flames? They wouldn't have known!

Harry turned to Malfoy in panic. "Rebecca! We need to go get her now!" he whispered viciously.

Malfoy frowned and cursed. "Fuck! Okay, here's the plan—" His eyes suddenly focused on something behind him and he sighed with annoyance. "Never mind. I swear, I'm going to destroy that son of a bitch when we get back to the common room."

Harry turned to look and found Blaise smiling at them and holding Rebecca, making her little arm wave at them. Harry clenched his jaw and rubbed his eyes tiredly. That was a close one. For Merlin's sake, Blaise was really giving him quite the headache today! It was rather untimely and more than a little aggravating. In fact, Harry was surprised that Malfoy had not blown up yet from the stress of it all—the Slytherin had never really been good at managing his anger... Then again, Harry couldn't really say anything on the matter either.

By the time that Snape had finished speaking, the benches had all been pushed aside to make room for the students to practise whatever it was that they were doing today. Harry shook his head and realised that he had zoned out during instruction and had no idea what to do. What else was new, though? Thankfully, Snape had passed out a parchment with the written instructions and Harry grabbed his own to inspect it. "Trust fall? Life saving? CPR?" He wrinkled his nose. It sounded like a lot of work. After glancing around a bit, he realised that they were supposed to start with the trust fall. He studied the little diagram for a moment before turning to Malfoy. "Okay, you go first," he said. "Fall on me."

Malfoy looked bewildered. Obviously, he hadn't been listening either. "What? Why?" he asked.

Harry showed him the sheet. "Just do it," he assured. Malfoy gave him a look, but he turned around and fell into Harry's arms without further arguement.

Harry pushed him back up and looked at the parchment again. "Now close your eyes, spin around and fall randomly. I'll catch you." Harry expected Malfoy to protest at that, but the other boy did just as he was told. After pushing Malfoy upright again, Harry squeezed his shoulder. "Wow, you didn't even hesitate," he commented, just as Malfoy fell backwards again. Harry caught him, as promised.

Malfoy shrugged. "You've defeated the Dark Lord and saved the wizarding world from misery and evil. I'm rather certain that I can trust you to save me from merely falling on my face."

Harry fought the urge to grin madly. "I try, Malfoy. Although I'll admit, it would be rather entertaining to see you fall on your face."

"Let me remind you of the fact that you told me about the itching powder thing merely five minutes ago," Malfoy retorted.

Harry snorted. "Let me remind you of the fact that I've got the powder and you don't."

Malfoy only smirked a little and fell again.

Something about that simple conversation made Harry's heart swell. Did Malfoy really trust him like that now? They practised the fall a few more times before switching, and after a while, Harry was starting to have a pretty good time. The more they practised, the more intricate their falls became—they treated the exercise as a game, trying to outdo the other with swift moves and smooth tricks. Harry laughed as Malfoy walked on his hands with surprising agility before falling into Harry's outstretched arms.

"I swear you were a monkey in another life," Harry teased. "You're so flexible."

Malfoy shot him a look. "Ooh no, Potter. Don't start. You are just begging to be smothered in your sleep."

Before Harry could think of a witty response, Snape had reappeared with a tiny bowl on water in his hand. "Students, gather around. This will be the next task." He walked to the middle of the room and placed the bowl on the ground, enlarging it into a sizeable pool. Snape stepped back and gestured towards it. "Each group will have one of these bowls to work with. As this one had, the bowl will transform into a bottomless pool that one of you will have to "drown" in. Your partner will have to save you. In the Muggle way—" the professor added, sneering at his own words. "With floatation devices and such. If anything should go awry, I will be here to assist with magic."

Someone raised their hand. "Um, sir? A floatation device?"

Harry could hear more people whispering in confusion at that. Snape sighed irritably. "Very well, we shall have a demonstration," the man drawled. He glanced around and spotted his targets. "Potter, Malfoy, come here."

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course. He followed Malfoy over to where Snape was standing with his arms folded across his robed chest. The professor pointed at an object hanging off the side of the bowl/pool and turned to Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy, that is a lifesaver. You will tie it to this rope and throw in the water when instructed. Mr. Potter will be the drownee."

Again, of course. Harry sighed, about to climb into the pool. He really didn't care for the idea of getting his hair all wet before the end of the day, since it tended to become ratty as it dried, but he couldn't be finicky with Snape. He'd just have to live with his shit day and complain about it later in the confines of the dorm room.

"Wait, Potter," Snape snapped. "Take off your outer robes so I can transfigure your clothes into the proper attire. You may actually drown if you're wearing all that and it would be such a tragedy."

Harry felt the slight breeze beneath his robes and the memory of that morning flashed through his mind. Merlin, he was going to force himself to start organising his things from now on. "Um no, it's okay sir, I'll be fine," he muttered. "I've been in worse." He glanced over at Malfoy for help.

Malfoy's mouth opened a little as he realised Harry's situation and he chimed in as well. "Actually, sir, can I be the drownee? I think I slept on my arm wrong, it's rather sore. I don't believe I can throw the lifesaver properly."

"Yeah," Harry added. "Besides, he's probably a better swimmer than I am."

"I am," Malfoy agreed. "And Potter likes to save people."

Harry nodded. "I do."

Snape inspected them both suspiciously. "I don't know what the two of you are trying to achieve with this nonsense, but it's not going to work," he said. "Potter, take off your school robes."

"But sir, I—"

"This is an order. Take them off."

"Sir, he doesn't—"

"Stop fooling around, Potter."

"I'm not—"

"Potter!"

Without another word, Snape pointed his wand at Harry and briskly vanished his outer school robes with a flick. In slow motion, Harry saw his life flash before his eyes—every little detail and action was suddenly highlighted in his brain. There was a collective gasp. Girls were giggling and blokes were whistling. Harry distinctly noticed Ron bristle and Hermione bite her lip. Malfoy's face was bright pink. Snape was staring. Harry flushed. Oh, why hadn't he worn looser pants?

"Mr. Potter…" Snape began slowly. "Why on earth aren't you wearing your school uniform?"

Harry screwed his eyes shut and shrugged weakly. What was he supposed to say? That he and Malfoy had overslept and had not had time to get dressed? It would just make the morning situation even worse. Oh gods, this was awful. Harry just wanted to sink into the floor and never surface, ever, ever again—honestly, where the fuck was Voldemort when he needed him?

"Oh gods Potter, this is why you don't throw your clothes off after wearing them," Malfoy mumbled, looking away and peeking and then averting his eyes again. Harry glared at him.

"Not helpful," he hissed.

"I told you to put trousers on," Malfoy retorted.

"Did you know that Harry wasn't wearing anything under his robes, Malfoy?" someone asked.

Malfoy cleared his throat in an attempt to drown out the comment, but it was too late. The widespread silence had been broken.

"Harry throws his clothes off in Malfoy's presence, hm?"

"See, I told you! They're shagging before class!"

"How thin are those pants, Harry?" Blaise asked cheerfully, adding to the commotion. "You should get in the water and see."

Harry blushed and Malfoy's forehead hit his palm again. Snape cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable and annoyed with the situation. "Shut up, all of you," he snapped. "There will be no demonstration. Each and every one of you gremlins will lose an additional five points from this assignment—no arguments. Begin with your task. Now." Snape pointed at Harry again, and suddenly Harry's school robes reappeared on his body. Harry wrapped them around himself protectively and ducked his head as Malfoy quietly picked up their bowl. They walked to the furthest corner of the room amidst many snickers.

"Fuck my life," Harry muttered, still hot from embarrassment.

Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Honestly, we attend classes with a bunch of fucking loons," he said, before pausing and giving Harry a slightly sympathetic look. "On the bright side, though, at least you hadn't somehow ended up wearing my pants."

~x~

Harry waited outside for Ron and Hermione after class, still hanging his head with humiliation. Despite his efforts to remain covert, many students had walked by waggling eyebrows or whistling at him. Harry had scowled at them, naturally—as if everybody seeing him practically starkers hadn't been enough! Both of his friends came out of the room with matching expressions of sympathy for him.

"Rough time, mate," Ron remarked, patting his shoulder and squeezing it.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. "You look pale."

"At least I'm not crimson anymore." Harry rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life... Honestly, it tops the time I kissed Cho Chang and she cried. Really."

Hermione grimaced. "I know. And um, Harry..." She blushed a little. "I think you ought to consider investing in some new undergarments. They're rather tattered. I think they've got... holes."

Harry frowned. "Did you see...?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Yeah, I mean, we didn't mean to... it was just... there."

"Oh my god," Harry moaned.

"If it helps, you've got more than half of the Quidditch team beat by a long shot," Ron tried weakly.

"Really?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, wanting to end the humiliation. "Can we just—not. Please."

Both of his friends had nodded eagerly, but Harry's attention snapped to Malfoy as he walked past them; the boy was heading in the direction of the Slytherin common room. It was only natural, considering the terrible day that had just occurred, to retreat back to homebase. Harry wanted to do that himself. He watched Malfoy until the other was out of sight, and when he glanced back at his friends, they were both eyeing him curiously. Suddenly, he felt a little guilty that he'd been keeping all of his feelings from Ron and Hermione. After all that they'd been through together, Harry had vowed that he'd stop keeping secrets from them. He had realised long ago that it was always easier just to let it out. He cleared his throat.

"Guys, we've got to talk," he said. "Privately."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances at that. They nodded. Without another word, Harry began to lead the way towards the Gryffindor common room, the only place that he knew would be safe enough to have this sort of conversation. Once they had arrived, Harry was grateful to see that most everybody in Gryffindor was out visiting friends from other Houses at the moment—the room was pleasantly sparse. They all sat down on the couch next to the fireplace and Hermione set a quick Silencing charm around them just in case anybody decided to show up.

"So what is this about, Harry?" she asked.

Harry cleared his throat and played with the fraying ends of his sleeves nervously. He wanted his friends to know of his new revelation, but he didn't know how they would take it. It had only been a few months since he and Malfoy had started to get along, and he didn't want them to think that he was jumping to conclusions too soon... Harry glanced at his redheaded best friend. Especially Ron.

"Well, you know that Malfoy and I have... well, we've become close. Right?"

Harry saw Ron make a face at that, but Hermione didn't flinch. "Go on," she urged.

He bit his lip. "And I—we—I just…" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I can't explain it. I feel all hot and cold around him. Nervous. Twitchy. It's... strange. It's as if he's put a spell on me or something."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Ron remarked. Harry gave him a dry look.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said.

"What? We all know that Malfoy loves his hexes," Ron pointed out.

Hermione pursed her lips. "You are so judgmental."

"He does, though!"

"How would you like it if someone made assumptions about you?"

Ron snorted. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Guys, I think I fancy him," Harry blurted.

Ron and Hermione immediately stopped bickering. They exchanged glances again, and then Hermione patted him on the shoulder in apparent support. "We know you do, Harry," she murmured.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Somewhere deep down, he had already suspected that Hermione would be okay with it, but... Harry turned to face Ron. "We?" he asked.

"Yes," Ron confirmed softly. "We've discussed it."

Harry frowned. "And you… you're okay with that?"

Ron grimaced slightly, but he slapped a hand on his back in an attempt of encouragement. "Of course I am, mate," he said. "You know that I'll always stand by you. I don't have a problem with the fact that you're gay."

Harry furrowed his brow at that. It wasn't really the issue he was worried about—although yes, it was nice to know that as well. As if reading his mind, Ron spoke up again. "And I don't have a problem with the fact that... you... fancy Malfoy," he amended slowly. "I guess... Well, I guess you know him better than I do. And as revolted as I am by him, I know that you can take care of yourself." Ron gave him a shaky smile. "If you trust him, I trust you."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Hermione's opinion was very important to him, but it was Ron's that Harry needed for this one. He felt a wave of affection for his best friends and grinned. "Thanks, Ron. Hermione."

His friends smiled back at him. "You know you can tell us anything, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "Besides, there are much worse things you could do rather than fancy a Slytherin... Even if does happen to be Draco Malfoy."

Ron shook his head. "It had to be him, didn't it? I swear, mate, you've gone mental."

Harry laughed as Hermione flicked Ron's shoulder and scolded him. He shrugged. "Perhaps I have—but you know me. I can't resist a challenge."