Draco idly twirled a slender finger in Harry's dark hair as he waited for the other boy to wake up. He wondered if Harry always slept this much, or if it was only after he had sex. There was an easy way to find out, but somehow it seemed so much more appealing to be kept wondering if it meant more sex.

Harry began to move, but it was only to shift and momentarily press his cheek harder into Draco's chest before he relaxed and continued to slumber.

"Fucking tease," Draco murmured.

But he had known that already–or thought he did. It was difficult to read Potter sometimes. In the Prefect's Bathroom, it had seemed like he was tantalizing Draco on purpose, standing stark naked over him when he was in the Body Bind curse even as he threatened to break his nose.

The only good thing about being paralyzed was that you couldn't pop a boner. It didn't help when you had a special interest–fetish, even–in being dominated.

Draco sighed. Of course he, one of the most powerful and influential students of his year, would get off to the thought of being submissive. He made a mental note to suggest something to Potter later.

First, though, they'd need to talk. There was that matter that he had meant to bring up in the hospital. Then there was the fact that he and Harry had been enemies since first year, a relationship which had somehow been flipped upside down. What were they now? Fuck buddies? Boyfriends? Something else?

It was just so damn hard to have the restraint to talk instead of using his mouth for better other purposes.

Harry shifted again and Draco could see his dark lashes slowly open. He took a deep breath and stretched against Draco's body (pressing his morning wood against Draco's leg in the process). He looked up with his emerald eyes.

"You smell good." His voice was husky with sleep. He smiled. "Like Quidditch and sex."

Damn.

Riding on the high that comes from a mixture of a good night's sleep and a good-morning blowjob, Harry walked back to his dormitory. As he entered the Common Room, he was attacked by a brown blur.

"Harry! Where have you been? We haven't been able to find you since supper last night! We looked everywhere! Really, Harry, you should tell us before you disappear like that," Hermione finished sternly, releasing him from the hug.

Harry resisted an urge to laugh. "Sorry, Hermione. It just slipped my mind."

"Yeah, Harry, you have to think about people besides yourself," Ron added.

Hermione gave him a fond smile before he continued.

"Hermione was driving us all up a wall worrying about you–ow! What was that for?"

She sighed. "Nothing, Ronald."

"Bloody hate when she calls me that," Ron muttered.

"Well, it looks like you two lovers got along perfectly while I was, em, missing," Harry said. "I'm going to breakfast. See you later."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as Ron stuttered, "L-lovers? What do you mean, lovers?"

Harry, back turned to the pair, smiled and went to go by his dormitory to change before going to breakfast. Behind him, he heard Hermione say, "Honestly, Ron, it was just a figure of speech. He didn't mean it literally..."

Later that day, when Harry was sitting at lunch, Ron ambled up with a worried look on his face.

"Look, mate, about what you said earlier... What did you mean, 'lovers'?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, everyone and Mrs Norris knows that you two are madly in love with each other. Everyone except the pair of you, that is."

Ron flushed crimson. "Oh yeah? And what gave everyone this idea?"

Harry set down his fork so he could count on his fingers. "Perhaps it was the way you stare at her when you don't think she's looking. Perhaps it's how you seem to spend every waking moment with one another. Perhaps it's how she helps you with your homework night after night despite the way she promises she'll never help you again. Maybe it's how she always sighs your name. 'Ronald...' And then there's the fact that it's totally obvious."

Ron was speechless for a moment. "All right, and why are you suddenly so concerned about it?"

"I just thought perhaps it was time you two, y'know, got on with it."

"It?" Ron's face was turning a sickly white with anxiety.

"I mean, unless you really want to die a virgin. That's quite all right, I suppose."

"Die a virgin... Wait. Look who's talking, here, Mr Chosen One. How about you worry about your own virginity."

"Long gone, mate." It was only a little exaggeration. Not really a lie.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "When? With who? Why didn't you tell me?"

"How about you worry about your own virginity," Harry quipped.

"No, really. Come on. You've gotta tell me."

Harry chewed his food carefully.

"Please. Come on." Ron's face was pleading.

Harry looked up and saw Hermione approaching. "Good luck, Ron."

Clapping his friend on the back, Harry strode off. He only needed to glance once to see that Ron's face had returned to its nervous pallor at Hermione's presence.

Harry was lying down in his four-poster bed. He was vaguely considering the prospect of coming out and what he'd come out as. Bisexual? Gay? Malfoy's boy toy?

Malfoy's boy toy... Was that what he was? They hadn't really discussed it. Come to think of it, they hadn't discussed much recently. Everything had been... rushed.

The door opened and Ron entered. He saw Harry and sat down on the foot of his bed.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you talk to her?"

"Of course not. Bloody terrifies me, doesn't she?"

"Ah."

There was a comfortable silence.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You know my uncle Bilius?"

"Not personally."

"Well, no, but... The thing is... He was all right, is what I'm trying to say."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. My grandmum sort of disowned him. He never exactly... That is, she always wanted grandchildren from him. It's easy to see why she lost hope when you look at his wife."

"What was wrong with his wife?"

"She didn't exist. He never wanted one."

Ron stood up. "Good night, Harry."

"G'night, Ron."

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room the next evening. Ron was off by himself somewhere–probably still eating in the Great Hall. Harry was deep in thought when Hermione spoke.

"Harry?" she said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Um... You've been kind of distant lately," she said.

Harry cleared his throat. It's just that I've been getting extra close to Malfoy. "Sorry about that, Hermione. I've been busy."

"I know you have. But you've always made time before."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was used to Hermione being direct, but he wasn't used to having to hide things from her.

"Anyways. D'you want to talk about Saturday now?"

Harry turned on the couch so he could look straight (lol geddit? cuz i'm goffick cuz he's not straight) at Hermione, who was sitting right next to him.

"Sure," he said.

"Well... All I know is that you went off to find Malfoy, who was taken to the hospital wing before we found you. What happened?"

"I left you guys with Katie. I went up to the dormitory to get the Map. I found Malfoy–he was in Myrtle's bathroom."

"The girl's bathroom on the second floor? Why would he go there?"

"I dunno. I think he liked to talk to Myrtle or something. But when I found him, he was..."

"What?"

"Sobbing. Terrified."

Harry took a deep breath; Hermione placed a comforting hand on his knee.

"But I was just–so–angry. It was like my rage was a furnace. It blinded me. I... I cursed him."

"Are you saying you're responsible for his trip to the infirmary?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't see... Harry, he was in bad shape when he came in. What curse did you use?"

Harry sighed. Hermione was going to be insufferable when she heard this. "Sectumsempra. Yes, I know you've never heard of it. That's because, well... It's from the Prince's book."

"Harry, what did I tell you about that book! I told you–"

"Hermione, please."

She clenched her jaw. "Fine. You used a dangerous curse on another student–a Sltherin, no less; that explains why Snape was ignoring you. But if you cursed Malfoy, how did you end up unresponsive?"

"Merlin. I don't know exactly. After I cast the curse, he just collapsed onto the floor. He was bleeding everywhere." Harry started to choke up. Just remembering it out loud was traumatic.

"Snape came in. I don't know how he found us. He stopped the bleeding, somehow, but the floor was stained with red. Snape left, carrying Malfoy. He was so pale. I thought–" Harry cut off. Tears were starting leak from his eyes.

"I thought I'd killed him, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured. She pulled him into a tight embrace and he tried to control his tears. She gently stroked his hair while he sniffled.

After a while, Hermione said, "I suppose he's all right now, don't you?"

Harry gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just... He was acting rather odd yesterday."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, he spoke to mean, for one thing. For another, he didn't call me Mudblood."

"Oh."

"And... He asked me to give you this." Hermione pulled a small object from her bag. Harry looked closer. It was a moving silver statue. A dragon.

"I checked it to make sure it wasn't cursed. The only thing I found was the animating enchantment."

Harry picked it up and brought it closer to his face. It was intimately detailed, each scale carved individually. A quicksilver tongue flicked out occasionally from its mouth as its tail waved sinuously back and forth. Its eyes were green gems–emeralds, if Harry had to guess.

"Beautiful."

"It's certainly something. But why did he send it to you?"

Harry smiled into Hermione's shoulder. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He set the statue down on Hermione's leg and for a while they sat in silence, watching it crawl around.

Hermione started up again. "Harry."

"Yes, Hermione?"

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Erm... Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"I'm shagging Draco Malfoy," Harry muttered very quietly.

"What?" Hermione said.

Harry sat up. "I said... I figure Ron's Uncle Bilius was a first-rate fellow."

Hermione flushed a delicate shade of pink, although she steadfastly ignored this. "Yes, I think you're right."

"It's funny, Ron was just talking about him last night."

"You don't say?"

"It was funny, how he just sort of started talking about his uncle he's barely mentioned before."

"You're right, that's quite odd."

Harry sighed and lowered his voice. "Look, Hermione. I know you think I'm a cocksucker."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Faggot, pouf, shirtlifter. Whatever you prefer. But the truth is, I don't really know for myself. So can you stop pressuring me?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. You've just been so removed recently. I was getting worried."

"You know, Hermione, I'm okay."

She smiled. "That's good to hear.

"That is good to hear."