A/N: This one is a little short. It used to be a part of the previous chapter, but I chopped them in half, cause I felt it was a bit much to put in one chapter.

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so very, very much. I've sucked lately at replying, and for that I apologize and hope you forgive me! The reason is that Script Frenzy has begun and I've been working on my original tv pilot stuff. Script Frenzy is TONS of fun, and I suggest everyone join up right quick. Plenty of April left.

Chapter Six:

Like a Plague of Locusts

-oOoOo-

On the third day, the press descended.

Draco was in an absolutely foul mood, snapping at everyone, and ordering them around like he was their General and they only lowly foot soldiers. Any good will Draco had garnered with the Butterbeer and firewhiskey was gone by nine am.

Pansy sighed, wondering what had set him off this time, and pulled Parvati away when she would have snapped back at him.

"He's being a jerk," the other girl objected.

"I know," said Pansy, "but when he's in one of these moods it's best to let him be until it passes."

He seemed to be especially angry with Potter, which a comforting throwback to the old days, because he sent the boy, bewildered by Draco's frigid rage, to the Owlry and not ten minutes later sent Ginny Weasley to the Owlry as well. Anyone with eyes knew those two didn't want to be within a Quidditch pitch of each other, let alone stuck together in a dark smelly tower with nothing but owls to distract them from the other's presence.

Blaise too, he seemed to be angry with, because he sent him off to work with Neville Longbottom, who was resolute in his decision not to give the Slytherins quarter, and was doing a pretty good impression of Draco's own icy anger.

Pansy was sure that whatever the story was it was probably a good one. One of those she'd be ordered to keep to herself if Draco gave up the goods. But Blaise was probably well aware of why Draco was angry, and would have no such compunctions about keeping secrets secret.

She resolved to corner him at lunch, when Blaise would be angry and ranting after a morning spent in Longbottom's disdainful presence.

Draco sent the others to the far corners of the castle, handing out the most difficult and foul assignments on the List, and demanded they be complete by lunchtime. Draco stayed in the Entrance Hall alone, fixing the broken Slytherin hourglass.

-oOoOo-

And because Draco was the only student near the Entrance Hall, he was the one to greet the group of reporters and photographers that descended upon Hogwarts like a swarm of ravaging insects.

There were more than twenty of them. Most of them barely gave him a passing glance, merely noting that he did not have terminal bed-head, glasses, or a scar, and dismissed him as unimportant. Naturally, this irritated him.

Rita Skeeter, though, recognized him instantly.

"Draco Malfoy!" she said, with a shark like grin. "There was a very interesting report out about you today from the Ministry. You and your mother cleared of all charges before you were even arrested! How does that feel?"

Draco eyed her Quick-Quotes Quill. "It feels just and fair, Rita. Just and fair. I assume you're here to see Potter?"

"Yes. Where is that darling boy?"

Draco was still so very angry, but he didn't think Potter would thank him if he threw him to the wolves. All eyes were on him now; they were feral and ready to pounce. Ready to be led on a merry chase.

"In the West Tower. Divination classroom? Terrible thing, what happened to those teacups."

There was a clamor to get up the stairs, and Draco called to their backs, "Wands out! He's very easily startled you know! Wouldn't want there to be an accident!"

The Acromantula that had taken up residence in the Divination classroom was very easily startled as well. He hoped that by the time the reporters fled screaming from the castle that he would be able to mark that off the List.

Draco turned back to the broken hourglass, fully intending to get back to work.

"You should go warn Potter," he said aloud to himself.

He didn't want to. He thought if he saw Harry he might do something stupid.

"You should do it anyway. He'll be grateful. He hates the press."

Draco whined to himself, hating indecision and cowardice.

He dropped the bag of emeralds to the floor. "Fine, fine. I'll be a nice person," he said. "I'll try being a nice person," he amended.

There were raised voices coming from the Owlry. Draco crept up to the door, which was slightly ajar, and made sure the occupants of the room couldn't see him. There was no way he'd miss this fight. Nice person or no, there were some things he just couldn't resist, and eavesdropping was one of them.

"Ginny, it's just—it's not going to work."

"You've said that three times now, but you haven't given a reason! What is wrong, Harry?"

"Last night… Ginny, I…"

"What? Did something happen? Did you—oh, Merlin, were you with someone else?"

There was telling silence from Potter.

"Oh my God, Harry!" wailed Girl Weasley. "Who? Who was it? Was it Parkinson?"

Draco made a face. Pansy and Potter. He ordered his mind not to go there.

"No, it wasn't Pansy. It was—it was Blaise. Okay? It was Blaise."

Long heavy silence. Draco wished with all his heart that he'd been hearing this exact same conversation years earlier. It would have been glorious to spread this around school. Now though, it just hurt.

"You were with a boy," she said, her voice free of any inflection.

"Yes."

"But when we were together, you… Were you…" She sounded like she was going to cry. "Were you thinking about someone else?" her voice wavered.

"No, Ginny, no. God, no."

"I mean, I know Zabini has been flirting with you, but I didn't think you'd…"

"I'm sorry, Ginny."

"Uh huh."

"I'm so sorry."

"Harry, if you're… If you're g-gay, then… well, then you're gay."

"I don't… I don't know if I am."

"But you liked it, right?"

"Ginny…"

"I mean, you must have, if you're telling me. You wouldn't tell me if you hadn't liked it. And really," she said, crying now, "I'd almost prefer it this way, because if it's because you like boys then at least it's not something I did."

"Ginny, no, you didn't do anything! It's just—so much has happened since we've been together, and I don't know how to make it work with us anymore. I was so happy with you, but we're not those people any more."

"No, I suppose we're not." She sobbed brokenly. "I really wish we were."

"I'm so sorry, Ginny."

There was a shuffling, and then her sobs were muffled. Draco peaked into the room and saw Potter holding Ginny to his chest. Her fingers were clutched in his shirt, and they both looked so miserable that it made Draco feel better.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall, looking up at the sky through broken shingles.

-oOoOo-

Blaise was having a good day. A great day. Not even Neville Longbottom and his holier-than-thou attitude could bring him down.

It couldn't.

"Could you take care of that Devil's Snare? I mean, can you handle it?"

Blaise couldn't even tell if he was being an arse on purpose, or if he was just really good at being wide-eyed and solicitous. Blaise suspected the former. He so hated it when Gryffindors flaunted their Slytherin side.

"Sure, of course," he smiled tightly.

A ring of bluebell flames around the base of the plant, so the vines would retract, but not be harmed, and a simple spell to extract the roots and the surrounding soil. Levitate to pot, levitate pot to wheelbarrow, leave outside Greenhouse Three.

Easy.

He didn't know what crawled up Draco's arse and died this morning, but he didn't appreciate his friend taking it out on him. It was hot outside, and Blaise was sweaty and dirty. Blaise hated being sweaty and dirty—unless there was a very sexy cause for it. And there wasn't, because Draco had sent Potter off to the Owlry with his ex-girlfriend, who was no doubt trying to win Hero back.

Blaise kicked an empty pot. "Ow." He intended to have a very nice summer, including a very nice summer fling, and he intended that fling to be with Harry, because Harry was… well. Certainly a very quick study, if nothing else.

He smiled. A very quick study.

They hadn't gotten all that far last night, just kissing and groping, and Blaise had come just by having Harry palm and stroke at him through his pants. It was almost embarrassing, but Harry had come just as easily. Blaise was hoping for a bit of a repeat sometime today.

So long as Girl Weasley and Draco didn't conspire against him, he was going to have a very nice summer indeed. And, you know, so long as Harry didn't freak out about the boy on boy thing. That would certainly put a kink in his summer. He didn't have the energy or the inclination to convince Potter that he might be gay or at least bisexual. The other boy had been slightly drunk last night, and they hadn't seen each other yet today, so it was entirely possible that Harry was going to act as though nothing had happened.

-oOoOo-

"You're in a better mood than I thought you'd be."

Pansy had found her friend in the Den, looking freshly washed, sunning himself in the enclosed courtyard. Blaise turned lazy eyes towards Pansy. "I'm dealing with my anger through the power of positive thinking."

"Plotting Longbottom's demise?"

"Longbottom and Draco. Alternating with dirty thoughts of Potter."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Has your scheme borne fruit so soon? Potter must be easy."

"He was a bit drunk," Blaise grinned. "Perhaps that impaired his judgment. Or perhaps my charm won him over."

"You have all the charm of a two ton Bludger. You forced your charm on that poor innocent boy, didn't you?"

He laughed. "He wasn't complaining."

"They never do until later," she said musingly. "Are you going to break the Hero's heart, Blaise?"

"I have no intention of doing anything to his heart."

Pansy sighed, wondering at how Blaise could miss the obvious. "Sweetheart, that boy is very different from you and I. He's a committer. He likes to put his little heart on the line, and if you're not careful you could very well hurt him without even realizing it. I'd be shocked if he hasn't already come clean to his friends. Not to mention Ginny Weasley. He'll feel like he owes it to her to be honest."

Blaise scrunched up his beautiful face. "Do you really think so? I need to be upfront and… honest… about my intentions?" The very idea looked distasteful to him. "I hate to be so blunt about these things. It's crude."

"He's a Gryffindor, Blaise. They need bluntness to understand anything, and what's more, he's got the whole of the wizarding world wrapped around his finger. He could cause a lot of problems for you if he cared to."

Blaise twitched uncomfortably. "You're right about that, at least."

"I know I am. I wouldn't be surprised to find that it's completely due to Potter that Draco isn't in Azkaban right now."

"Okay, you win," he said. "I'll talk to him first chance I get."

"Be gentle," she advised. "I hear Gryffindor hearts are fragile."

-oOoOo-

Harry didn't know how long he held Ginny as she cried, but it seemed like quite a long time had passed until she had cried herself out. He hadn't minded, as he felt he owed her at least this much. She wasn't just a former girlfriend, she was a good friend, and a Weasley—his almost family.

"We'll still be friends, right?" she said.

Harry was relieved. He'd wanted to ask the same question, but it would have felt tactless coming from him. "Of course we will."

Ginny smiled tremulously. "Good. You know, I'm hungry." She laughed a little. "All that crying, I guess. I got your t-shirt all wet, I'm sorry."

"It will dry," he said, thinking that he was very lucky to have Ginny Weasley in his life, and very lucky that she was one tough cookie, and a forgiving one on top of that. "Let's get some lunch."

"We didn't finish the Owlry," she said. "Malfoy's going to pitch a fit. What was his deal this morning anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "Last night it was almost like we were friends, if you can believe that, but then this morning it was like he'd regressed to his fifteen year old self."

"Friends, huh? With Malfoy? How does that work?"

"Mostly he picks on me, and it's up to me to find it funny instead of annoying."

She laughed. "You're a saint, Harry."

"Nah, he's not that bad anymore, and he is sort of funny."

"Yeah, I guess he is. I saw him do this impression of Flitwick—must have been your fifth year—but he did it all the time and it was so funny. Did you ever see it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I kind of always assumed he was making fun of me."

"Not always, but most of the time. Do you think he'd do the Flitwick one again if I asked?"

"So long as he has an audience I think he'll do just about anything," said Harry.

Ginny snickered. "That's so true!"

-oOoOo-

"I am so sorry," said Draco, putting a hand to his heart to show his sincerity. "I had no idea there was a giant man eating spider in the Divination classroom. Is everyone all right? Did you take care of the spider?"

The last, of course, was all he really cared about. The bedraggled, and somehow singed, press corps, muttered out a negative. Draco sighed inwardly. It was a single Acromantula. One would think a group of twenty trained adult witches and wizards would be able to handle one Acromantula.

Draco, unable to warn Potter, had taken it upon himself to give a press conference, if you will, regarding the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. He sent his deepest regrets that Harry could not be there himself to answer their questions, but that Draco would be more than pleased to answer for him. Draco had rounded them all up in a little used classroom in the West Tower, which had a raised stage for lectures, and an elegant looking lectern for Draco to stand behind and look important.

Since Draco had been so busy with the school for the past week or so, he hadn't had the time to keep up with Harry Potter's press clippings, and had little to no idea what the media had been printing since the battle. He had even less of an idea of what, if anything, Potter had said to members of the press, but he thought he could make an educated guess. Likely something along the lines of, "Bugger," and, "Off."

Potter had no idea how to manage his own celebrity, so just this once, Draco would do it for him.

"I will begin with a short statement, and I will take your questions afterwards. The day following the battle, I returned to Hogwarts. Merely to collect my things, you understand. But I found the destruction to the school was worse even than I remembered, house-elves in disarray, and my own House dormitory flooded. I decided to stay. I felt that I owed it to my school to at least help the house-elves organize their clean up activities. I owled two friends, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, who were glad to help.

"Several days later, Harry Potter arrived at the school looking for me. I'm sure you are all aware that he was using my wand at the time of the Final Battle, and Potter wanted to return it to me. I am very grateful for Mr. Potter's thoughtfulness, as the wand I was using wasn't working well, and made my efforts difficult. Mr. Potter chose to stay at Hogwarts, thinking the actions of myself and my Slytherin friends were good ones. He too owled some of his friends, mostly members of the Defense club he started in our fifth year. There are now over twenty students, representing each House, here and working together towards one common goal.

"Our mission, regarding Hogwarts is to have her up and running on September first, ready to welcome old students back and new students in, and to have her looking better than she did before. We all love our school dearly, and can't bear to see her in such a state."

Draco looked earnestly at the members of the press. Some actually had tears in their eyes, and all looked a little soppy. Except for Rita Skeeter, of course, who was grinning delightedly. Yes, the wizarding world was going to eat this mush up with a spoon.

"I will now take your questions."

By the end, Draco had them eating out of the palm of his hand, lending out quirks and secrets of the Boy-Who-Lived like he was Albus Dumbledore with a pocket full of lemon drops.

"Can you tell us if Mr. Potter is currently seeing anyone? Romantically?" asked the witch from Teen Witch Weekly.

"I'm afraid Harry has asked me not to comment on his love life at this time."

"Are there comments to be made?" she asked. When Draco kept his mouth shut, she said, "What about his romance with Ginny Weasley? Has that been rekindled?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to say, 'No comment.'"

There were sighs of disappointment all around, but Draco had given them plenty to work with, and they were not dissatisfied.

"Well, on behalf of Mr. Potter, I'd like to thank you all for coming today." He smiled brilliantly. "Hopefully we can all do this again soon."

The reporters and photographers filed out of the classroom. But Rita Skeeter hung behind. Draco did not like the smile on her face.

"It's interesting," Rita said.

"What is?"

"Well, the last I knew, you and Harry Potter were bitter rivals. And now here you are, speaking for him, answering personal questions about him—but not questions about his love life." She smiled. "Whatever could it mean?"

To Draco's horror, he blushed. And in realizing that he was blushing, he blushed harder.

"Ah," she said, with a note of triumph.

Draco furiously tried to come up with something to say, something that could explain—

"I'll keep it to myself," she said. "So long as you give me the scoop when you two decide to come out with it."

It was too late to say anything but, "Of course, Rita. Like I'd want to talk to anyone else."

"Good boy, Draco Malfoy." She left with a smirk and twiddling of her fingers.

-oOoOo-

Someone had made his sister cry. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her cheeks were doing that blotchy pink thing, and Ron was going to punch whoever had upset his sister enough to make her cry.

It was like tunnel vision. Nothing else existed beyond getting to Ginny and finding out who'd done this to her, and making them regret it.

She was with Harry, who looked like he was doing his level best to cheer her up. But Harry was pants at cheering people up.

Ron took her arm and spun her away from Harry. "What happened?" he demanded. "Who did this to you?"

She glanced quickly at Harry. "Did what?"

Ron narrowed his eyes. "You've been crying. Why?"

"Oh, Ron, I'm fine. Leave me alone."

Blaise Zabini entered the Great Hall with Pansy Parkinson on his arm, and Ginny stiffened. Just a little tiny bit, but it was enough for Ron.

He charged. "Zabini, what did you say to my sister?"

Blaise looked up, expression mild, and then smoothing even further when he noticed how livid Ron was. "What are you on about, Weasley? What's wrong with your sister?"

He looked at Ginny, who looked quickly at the floor, hugging herself.

"What did you say to her?" Ron yelled.

Blaise looked at Harry and back at Ginny. "Ah. I see."

Suddenly Harry was in front of Ron, hands on his shoulders and trying to push him back. "Ron, Ron, wait—" he was saying.

"I didn't say anything to your sister," said Zabini.

This was obviously a lie. Zabini had done something, said something to hurt his sister. Ron knew it. "Leave off, Harry!"

"No!" Harry pushed him back a few feet, which at any other time Ron would have thought very impressive, because Harry was quite a lot shorter than Ron. But right now it wasn't impressive, it was annoying, because Harry was in the way. Harry should be beside him, helping him pound Zabini into the ground, because Ginny mattered to Harry too. "It wasn't Blaise," Harry was saying, almost yelling over the rage in Ron's head. "It wasn't Blaise. It was me."

"What?"

"It was me," he repeated. "It's my fault."

Harry was always saying things were his fault that actually had nothing to do with him, so Ron could almost have disregarded this, but his best friend's expression was filled with something other than guilt. Trepidation, worry, maybe?

"What?" said Ron.

Harry looked around at the crowd that had gathered. "Can we go somewhere else?"

No, they could not go somewhere else. Zabini could get away! Harry seemed to sense that Ron wasn't going anywhere.

"We broke up, Ron," said Ginny. "We broke up. There, are you happy?"

What? "No, I'm not happy. Why did you break up with my sister?"

"I—I just…"

Oh, it really was Harry's fault, and if Hermione found out he was making Harry have this conversation in front of a crowd she would be angry and disappointed in him, and tell him once again that he had the emotional depth of a teaspoon.

"Yeah, okay, lets go." He grabbed Harry's shoulder and pushed him out of the Hall, trying to get them both outside.

But they didn't get even that far, because waiting in the Entrance Hall was a horde of reporters and photographers, quills scratching merrily and they were all wearing terribly gleeful expressions.

Ron and Harry froze as the flashbulbs went off.

"Harry," said Ron in an undertone. "I'm going to count to three and then you're going to run."

Harry didn't wait for the count, and flew back through the Great Hall and out a side door before anyone could even shout a question after him.

-oOoOo-

Harry felt like the worst Gryffindor in existence—running away from danger? What was that? He'd be kicked out of the House. But reporters were scary, and knew how to mob a person, and Harry really hated to be reminded of his claustrophobia.

An arm shot out from behind a tapestry, and yanked him into the hidden passage.

Harry bounced off the wall, knocking his elbow hard. "Ooof!"

"Where are you headed, Potty?"

Oh thank, Merlin. It was just Malfoy.

"Just?" said the offended blond. Harry had apparently spoken aloud.

"There are reporters in the castle," Harry explained.

Malfoy snickered. "And you ran? Oh, Potter, one of these days we're going to have a talk about your ability to risk assess."

The coward had a point.

"You didn't, uh, talk to any of them?" Malfoy asked. "Did you?"

"No, no. But they heard that Ginny and I broke up."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Old news, that."

"Yeah, well…" Harry certainly wasn't going to talk to Malfoy about his current… situation. The blond would never let it go. Harry could hear it now, 'The Boy-Who-Liked-Boys.'

"Now it will be in the papers," Harry said. "Why won't they leave me alone?"

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about your little relationship woes being in the paper, and you know precisely why they won't be leaving you alone any time soon. You're the wizarding world's shining little hero."

"Well, I didn't do it for more press!"

"Yes, yes, you did it because you're kind and good." Malfoy sneered like this was distasteful.

"I did it because I had to. There was no one else."

"Well, technically, for a time there it could have been me."

Harry waved this away. "No, it wouldn't have worked. There were other things going on that would have protected him before I took the wand from you."

"Like what?" he asked curiously.

"I can't tell you that."

Malfoy sniffed. "Well fine. Then, tell me, why did you and Girl Weasley break up again?"

Harry reddened. He'd rather talk about horcruxes, thanks. "I—I'm not going—"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Potter, just say it. It's easy. Here, I'll prompt you: 'I'm gay. Blaise Zabini and his magical, magical lips have opened my eyes.'"

"What?" Harry gaped.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I saw you, Potter."

"You did?" Harry squeaked.

"Well, it's not like you were being very stealthy about it. Kissing right there in the corridor. Anyone could have seen you."

"Did they?"

Malfoy waved a hand airily. "No, I don't think so. Everyone else was at the far end of the hallway."

"Why—why aren't you…"

"Mocking you? Calling you names? Designing badges to hand around?" Malfoy shrugged, smiling. "Let's just say that you're not the first to have his eyes opened by Blaise's magical lips."

"Wait, you and Blaise were—"

"Fifth year, yes. After that things, well you know, they sort of fell apart and Blaise wasn't going to put up with it."

"But you two were together."

"Yes, but it's not like it was anything serious. Blaise likes boys sometimes, I like boys, and we shared a dorm. It happens. It's well over with."

Harry felt as though his whole world had been turned upside down and been shaken like snow globe, and he was still waiting to find out where things settled. It had been a very strange few days.

"I have a question, Potter. Did you know before Blaise kissed you? Did you have any inkling at all?"

Harry had been thinking about this himself since he'd woken that morning with a blinding hangover and the memory of Blaise's tongue in his mouth and his hand down his pants. There had been a few times when he'd thought other boys looked nice, attractive even. Oliver Wood in Quidditch gear. Bill Weasley when Harry had first met him, and all Harry had been able to think was that Bill was 'cool'. Cedric Diggory had been handsome in a wholesome way. Blaise was beautiful, and looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine advertisement. Even Draco Malfoy had looked… well, handsome on occasion, when Harry had been feeling ambivalent enough to notice Malfoy as anything other than a pain in his neck.

"Yeah, I suppose," was all he would admit.

Malfoy nodded. He looked curious and intent, and Harry didn't know what that meant.

"Look, Potter, the thing about Blaise… I hope you're not thinking it's true love or anything as nauseating as that, because Blaise… Well, it's not that he's playing with you, it's just that this—" Malfoy sighed expressively. "It's just a bit of fun for him. So don't get attached. He's leaving for France at the end of the summer anyway."

"Oh."

Harry wondered if he should be hurt about being just a way to pass the summer for Blaise, because he wasn't. He didn't know what to think about it, really. It had only happened the one time, and Harry had been drunk, and he still didn't know if he actually liked boys, or if he still liked girls, or maybe he liked both. It was all terribly confusing. And why was Malfoy warning him, anyway?

"Why are you telling me this?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You know, I don't even know."

"Malfoy, are we—can we try to be friends? I mean last night was fun. With the 'I Never' game, even though you were picking on me, and the boat race… It was fun, wasn't it?"

Malfoy smiled slightly. "The 'I Never' game was very fun. I can't believe how long it took you to catch on." He laughed. "Oh, your face when Susan Bones said, 'I never defeated a Dark Lord,' and then Finch-Fletchley insisted you should drink twice."

"Well, it's just they're Hufflepuff, you know? You never expect Hufflepuffs to turn against you."

Malfoy laughed. "Come on, Potter. I'm sure the others have driven the evil reporters from the castle by now, so there's no need to be scared. I shall protect you."

"Right," Harry laughed.

"You doubt me? And you don't even know I've done for you this morning. I would take it back, I would if I knew this was the thanks I was going to get."

"Why? What did you do?"

Harry was absolutely horrified to learn that Malfoy had taken it upon himself to hold a press conference (a press conference!) in Harry's stead, and was only slightly mollified when Malfoy told him that he hadn't breathed a word of Harry's activities with Blaise the night before. And it was very amusing that Draco first sent them up to face an Acromantula.

"I think I did a wonderful job," the blond said. "Can I be your publicist?"

"I don't need a publicist."

"Oh, but you do. You definitely need one. And that person should be definitely be me, because I am terribly good at dealing with the press. You're wretched at it."

"You cannot be my publicist."

Malfoy humphed, but didn't look too put out. "You just wait until you see the paper tomorrow, and then you can decide. I am certain you will decide that I am right. You'll be very pleased."

-oOoOo-

A/N: More Harry/Draco interaction! And also, this chapter pretty much spells the end of Harry/Ginny stuff. Dean is away somewhere plotting his imminent wooing of Miss Weasley, so no worries about her. Worry about Blaise….

Ah, Blaise… How I love him.