Harry was late for class, in spite of the fact that it was afternoon and the students had been granted the luxury of sleeping in. He dashed through the corridors on his way to Divination, and everyone he passed thumped his back and shook his hand, congratulating him on his performance the night before. Suddenly every bloody student was his best mate.

Meanwhile his real best mate had crashed his room in the middle of the night, bumbling drunkenly in and reminding Harry that he hadn't set locks. He had aborted his perfunctory wank and pulled the coverlet up to conceal his hard-on. Ron had collapsed at the foot of his bed, cheeks aflame with drink and convulsing with giggles. Harry had had to smack him twice across the head to get a straight story out of him.

It turns out that his glee had been set off by Hermione, who had mere moments before informed him that perhaps it was time for them to consummate their relationship. That she had phrased it so formally was so typically Hermione that Harry could barely keep a straight face. Ron, on the other hand, had been so titillated by the idea in his inebriated state that he'd run straight out of the room in a confused flight response to the exciting prospect.

Harry had slapped him across the head again and ordered him back to Hermione's room, where his girlfriend undoubtedly awaited his epiphany that he'd run away rather than taken her up on her offer. Ron sat up suddenly, epiphany descending like a pile of bricks. He bolted from the room and slammed the door behind him. Harry remembered to lock it this time.

And now he was late, having lain awake wondering how many students were finding glory while he sat alone in his room. His pent-up frustration gave him fitful dreams and now he was groggy and grumpy and late for class.

Fortunately he wasn't the only one. Professor Trelawney tried her best to elicit responses from her exhausted students but the most she got were moans and mumbles. They shared a sigh of relief when class was over, then dragged themselves through the corridors to their next class. Harry was due for another round of grunt work in the Potions lab, something he did not look forward to.

Malfoy waited for him in the hall and walked with him in the direction of Slughorn's classroom, looking only slightly more rested than the others. Without considering his friends' privacy he told Malfoy about Ron's bungled opportunity for sex, although he acknowledged that it was really just a matter of time at this point.

"Is the Weasel a virgin?" Malfoy asked.

"I think so," Harry nodded. "I think I would have heard all about it if not."

"I think lots of people got lucky last night," Malfoy voiced the thought that had kept Harry awake in frustration.

"Did you?" Harry felt a surge of jealousy, suddenly wishing he hadn't asked. He didn't really want to know the answer.

"Sort of," Malfoy shot him a sidelong glance. "Really you're the one who got lucky, I just happened to be dressed like you."

"What are you talking about?" Harry stopped abruptly.

"Pansy Parkinson," Malfoy drawled with a smirk.

"You and Pansy?"

"She wanted me to pretend to be you," Malfoy's smirk widened.

"Did you?" Harry didn't know what to think.

"Not really," Malfoy shrugged dismissively. "Just kept the costume on while she did her thing." He smiled faintly at the memory, "Quite a mouth on that one."

"Great," Harry threw his arms up in defeat. "I'm me all the time, why did she wait until you tried it?"

"She probably would never admit to you that she likes you in that way," Malfoy paused. "Or at all."

"Everyone is getting some except me," Harry shook his head in disgust.

"I'm sure you get some sometimes," Malfoy busied himself with his books and parchments.

"No, never," Harry was bitter. He couldn't conceal it for dignity's sake.

"Never?" Malfoy looked up in surprise. "You're a virgin?"

"Yeah," Harry glowered.

"What about blowies?" Malfoy's voice carried a distinct tone of disbelief. "Certainly you've had one of those."

"Once."

"What about," Malfoy jiggled his hand crudely.

"Well yeah," Harry rolled his eyes. "But that's hardly sex, is it?"

"I had no idea," Malfoy's eyes were wide with surprise. "How have you not exploded by now?"

"I don't know," Harry looked miserable.

"You need some," Malfoy said firmly, taking a step towards Harry. "It doesn't have to be love, you just need someone to get you off. Everyone does sometimes."

"Are you offering to help?" Harry's face flushed, as it seemed to do so often these days. He hadn't meant the question the way it sounded. Not really.

Malfoy smiled faintly again, "I might be able to help." They looked at each other in awkward silence, neither one wanting to be the next to speak.

The clock tower chimed, indicating the start of class. The boys jumped, late again. They parted ways with a quick agreement to meet in the breezeway on Wednesday morning.