By the time lunch rolled around, the entire school somehow knew that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were no longer dating. Not having confessed the specifics of their original break-up to very many people, everyone had assumed they had been quietly together this entire time, keeping it hushed so as to not draw attention to themselves.
After all, what was everyone supposed to think after the picture of them kissing several days after the final battle became the front page of the Daily Prophet? They had been talking and it had somehow led to Ginny kissing him and Harry still had no idea who had taken the photo, if it had been someone he knew or if the press was simply following him. If he hadn't known for a fact that it was impossible, he probably would have suspected Colin. But it wasn't until Harry had seen the picture of him and Ginny in the Daily Prophet underneath the headline Boy-Who-Lived Happy in Love that he really started wondering how much of those words were still true.
Ginny had been ecstatic about it, even pinning a copy to her bedroom wall, as had Molly Weasley in a frame in the kitchen. Molly had told Harry on no less than twelve occasions that he had both her's and Arthur's full blessing to court and marry their only daughter—a conversation always resulting in a boiling churn of fear tearing through Harry's insides. Every time she mentioned the words marriage or proposal, he would panic and make a hasty exit.
And now the entire school knew and it was only a matter of time before the paper picked up the story and printed out some shit article with some stupid headline such as Boy-Who-Loved Then Lost or Love Saved Him, Then Destroyed Him. Knowing his luck, it would probably be the latter. That same wretched luck had already prevented him from being able to speak to Draco, something he was almost desperate for.
The three Gryffindors entered the Great Hall for lunch only to stop dead as the large room fell into utter silence. Glancing around to find every eye in the room fixed on him, Harry quickly sought out the only pair he cared about. Grey eyes met his steadily and watched as Harry gave an imperceptible jerk of his head, then turned and left the Hall without a word.
The babbling conversations began to gradually pick back up as he strode away from the doors, not stopping his pace until he found an empty classroom and ducked inside, pausing to shrug off his bag and toss it to the floor. A moment later, Malfoy entered and did the same, stopping just long enough to cast several locking and silencing spells before walking quickly to Harry and wrapping his arms around his neck. Harry's arms wound around his waist and his lips were covering Draco's before he was even aware of it. The blond melted into him, returning his kiss with a fierce passion that Harry felt down to his very toes and was glad he had taken so much extra time wanking in the shower that morning. If Malfoy shifted like that again, though, it wouldn't really matter.
"Draco, you have to stop that," Harry groaned.
"Why, Harry?" Malfoy breathed, fingertips trailing down Harry's spine. With a growl, Harry grasped him by the collar and used his hold to pin the other boy against the wall, and Draco sighed as though it was his favorite spot in the world. "You know, the whole school is talking about you," he pouted, an expression of his that was quickly becoming one of Harry's favorites. "And the horrible Weaselette."
"Be nice," Harry murmured, skimming his nose along Malfoy's sharp jaw. It wasn't Ginny's fault she wasn't Draco.
"I'm being as nice as the situation warrants," Malfoy argued. "Everybody is talking about how cute your lover's spat is and how long it will be before the two of you make up and how many ginger children you'll have and where you'll live together after graduation." Harry pulled back to stare at him in surprise but Draco wasn't finished. "So I hate her. She's horrid and I hate her and if you care about me at all you'll never speak to her again."
Harry could only gape. "She's not horrid," he finally insisted. "And it's not like I can just never talk to her again. Her brother's my best mate! They're all practically family! Besides, I've been friends with her since I was twelve and—"
"Exactly," Draco interrupted. "She was with you when you should have been mine." The grey eyes of the Slytherin were dark and serious and the depth in them was overwhelming and Harry had no idea what to say to that so he simply closed his eyes and kissed him.
What did that mean? What did such a declaration make Draco? Were they boyfriends? Just friends? What exactly did they mean to each other? Harry had just broken off the only relationship he had ever been in and that had been with a girl. How different was it going to be with a boy? What would everybody say? He didn't give a fuck what the papers printed about him, but he did care what everyone said about Draco and Harry knew that some very nasty articles would circulate upon the nation learning about the son of Lucius Malfoy becoming romantically involved with the wizarding world's Golden Boy.
He was aware of the consequences and in no way wanted to pressure Malfoy, but Harry suddenly needed to know. He needed to know what they were and what they meant to each other; he needed to know what they were doing and where this was headed. He didn't want another uncertain, in-between relationship like he had with Ginny. He needed to be upfront with Malfoy and find out what exactly it was that they had, but damn if that thing the blond was doing with his tongue wasn't distracting.
Harry cleared his throat and attempted speech. "Draco…" That tongue! Draco hummed and Harry tried again. "Draco, what is this? What are we?" The tongue vanished and he bemoaned the loss, but he straightened and looked the other boy in the eye. "What does this mean?" One of Draco's index fingers drew light circles into his nape as he pondered the question.
"What do you want it to mean?" Malfoy finally asked cagily, and Harry hesitated before responding.
"Well, it already means something, doesn't it? I mean, you like me, right?"
"Well," the blond sounded unexpectedly nervous, "I've already told you that I've had feelings for you since I was eleven. I've known for years how I feel about you." He ducked his head and refused to raise his eyes. "But, I have no idea how you feel in regards to myself. For me, though, Harry," and he raised his head to stare Harry in the eye with a challenging glint, "this is real."
And that was all Harry needed to know. With a nod, he bent forward and captured the other boy's lips in a scorching kiss that left them both gasping and clinging to one another.
"Me too, Draco," Harry murmured. "It's real for me, too." Draco was silent and Harry could see the doubt and disbelief in his eyes. "I've never felt…like this…" Harry gestured between them. "Not with anyone…"
Draco's eyes widened at the admission. "Not even the Weaselette?" he asked dubiously and Harry shook his head.
"No one else," he promised in a low voice. "What I had with Ginny…I really did care for her…and I still do…but now it's different and after everything…I don't want the things I once did. You're what I want, Draco. You're the only thing I'm certain of right now. I want you and I want to be with you and that's the only thing I'm sure of anymore."
"Harry," Draco breathed, but Harry wasn't finished.
"I'm not sure if you want to be boyfriends or if you want to call it something different, but I like you. I really like you, Draco, and so we're going to be together. And it's okay if you don't want to go public about it; lord knows it will be difficult enough dating me without the entire world peering in and throwing their opinions at us, but I'm willing to hold your hand in front of Voldemort and Dumbledore themselves and tell them that we're together and anybody who doesn't agree with it can fuck off. I want you to be mine, Draco, because I'm already yours. And—" Whatever else he had been about to say was cut off by Draco launching himself at Harry and swallowing the words in a kiss.
"You stupid, stupid Gryffindor," Draco whispered. "I've been yours since we met." His hands began attacking the fastenings of Harry's robes and yanking his shirt untucked, sliding his hands over the bare skin underneath and attaching his mouth to Harry's neck. Harry earnestly returned the favors, tearing at Malfoy's clothing until he found warm flesh. The teen hissed and arched into the brunet's touch and then ohholyfuck reached down to rub Harry's erection lightly through his jeans.
"Draco," Harry moaned.
Malfoy's mouth lifted to whisper into his ear. "Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined you saying my name like that?" His hand yanked at the buttons of Harry's trousers and Harry cried his name again as pale fingers wrapped around his cock. They kissed as Malfoy stroked him leisurely, his hand pinching off the head in a delicious twist that had Harry's toes curling.
"Dracodracodraco" he chanted breathlessly, fingers clenched tightly in Malfoy's robes, groaning as the hand sped up, squeezing tighter and tighter and stroking faster and faster, until with a shout Harry came, knees buckling.
"Fucking Merlin, Draco, you'll be the death of me," he said weakly, legs trembling.
Malfoy smirked and nuzzled Harry's cheek with his nose. "Hmm, I think I prefer you alive, though."
"Works for me, as well," Harry agreed, before making a fast decision. Draco was still leaning against the wall, and, judging from the bulge pressing into Harry's thigh, still rock hard. Harry decided to return last night's favor and suddenly dropped to his knees, smiling at Malfoy's startled gasp and the tentative hands that slid into his hair to tenderly rake his scalp.
Harry tugged the fastenings open and—keeping steady eye contact with Draco—slid both trousers and pants down to his knees before leaning forward to lick a long stripe up the pale cock in front of him. Malfoy whimpered and the fingers in Harry's hair tightened. He had never done this before, but, once again, knew what felt good and tried to imitate it. At the cries and exclamations of the blond, he guessed he was doing something right. Harry's hands held Malfoy's hips still as he attempted to swallow him even deeper, fingers caressing lightly over the skin beneath his palms.
The black hair clutched in Draco's fingers was gripped tighter as he groaned. "Fuck, Harry…fuck, Harry, fuck…I'm…I'm about to…fuck…oh fuck, Harry!" Harry had tried to prepare himself for it, but still coughed and choked as semen hit the back of his throat. He leaned back to breathe and Draco's fingers gentled in his hair and allowed him to slip free of his grasp.
When Harry looked up, Draco was gazing down at him with an expression both familiar and foreign; Harry recognized the intensity in the other boy's stare from every other time over the past few weeks their eyes had locked, but was what was new was the absolute awe and adoration etched into the handsome face above him. Draco was looking at Harry in a way that Harry was quite sure he had never been looked at before—reverently. Like Harry was some holy deity that Draco had been praying to for months to grant a miracle and the miracle was somehow Harry himself.
He stood slowly, knees popping. He had never before thought about just how uncomfortable giving a blowjob might be. His jaw ached and his neck, back, and shoulders were all stiff; there was a painful throbbing in his bruised knees from where his weight had rested on them atop the cold stone floor of the quiet classroom. But the way Draco cupped his cheek tenderly was worth any amount of discomfort, Harry decided, if he would only continue looking at him in that way. As if the sun rose and set with Harry. As if the stars would not shine without Harry to light them with a single glance. As if everything in Draco's life—every thought, action, decision—all centered around Harry and everything else was of secondary consideration.
Harry tried to think of something perfect to say, something to sum up the moment. Something romantic but not overly sappy—something to convey exactly how he felt about the blond at that moment.
Draco spoke first, however."Harry," and with that, he kissed him.
Harry was completely in favor of skipping Potions and remaining holed up in an empty classroom with Draco all afternoon, but the blond insisted they not miss class.
"Not all of us have jobs awaiting us at the Ministry," Malfoy pointed out, and Harry couldn't argue with the statement. Draco needed excellent grades and he needed to keep out of trouble. Harry agreed but took his time smoothing out the blond. He straightened his tie and tugged him close for a kiss until Malfoy broke it off with a gasp. "No fair distracting me, Harry. I expect you to behave like a gentleman about the whole thing." His eyes flashed and his fingers twitched in Harry's direction when Harry dropped his hands, but Malfoy nodded and removed the spells he had placed earlier on the door.
All throughout Potions Harry was distracted with thoughts of Draco. He couldn't help but stare at him, study him, sometimes lose himself for minutes at a time in the beauty of the Slytherin—he was gorgeous and took Harry's breath away and Harry had never felt luckier or more blessed in his life than he did at the thought of Draco caring for him just as much as he himself cared for the other boy.
And he knew at that moment that he had to tell Ron and Hermione. Before anybody else knew, they had to know. Even if Harry didn't want to; even if the thought of it made his palms break out in a sweat. Would Draco be all right with that? What if he really did want to be kept a secret? Could Harry handle only being able to touch him in seclusion?
His potion that day was even worse than usual thanks to his limited focus, but he may as well have brewed nothing for the attention Slughorn gave it. Another fucking O. Why even bother showing up to the fucking class at all? It made no difference what he did, so it should make no difference if he was even there.
Slughorn dismissed the students early and Harry jammed his belongings back into his bag. "I'll see you guys at dinner, yeah?" he called to Ron and Hermione before rushing out the door and hurrying to catch up to Draco and the Slytherins, brushing past Malfoy and squeezing his palm for the briefest of seconds before striding quickly ahead. He turned down several smaller corridors until the only sound behind him was a single set of footsteps. Ducking behind a tapestry, Harry fidgeted nervously as he waited for Draco to join him. The wait was only a few moments before the teen slipped into the alcove and pressed himself possessively against Harry.
"You were distracting me all class," Malfoy accused, one hand settling on Harry's chest as the other buried itself in his ebony hair.
"Was I?" Harry murmured, his own hands unable to remain still over Malfoy's robed back.
"Oh yes," Malfoy shivered. "The way you were looking at me…very distracting. My potion was absolutely abysmal."
"Draco," Harry laughed. "What are you talking about? You totally got an E on your potion."
"Yes," Draco scowled. "Exactly my point. I don't get E's, Potter. Not in Potions."
"Well, I'm very sorry for distracting you." Harry pressed soft kisses in a trail down Draco's throat with every word.
"You know, Potter, I do believe I doubt your sincerity," the blond breathed.
"Oh, I'm sincere, Malfoy. I'm very, very sincere." And with that, Harry kissed him hard on the mouth.
It was several long moments before Harry remembered that he had led Malfoy there for a reason and pulled back to rest his forehead against Draco's. "I want to tell Ron and Hermione," he panted quietly.
Malfoy groaned. "Please tell me you're not thinking about them whilst kissing me."
"No," Harry chuckled. "But I want to tell them. I don't want them to find out from anybody else and besides, I don't really want to keep you a secret." Draco stiffened slightly and Harry automatically tensed. "I mean, if you don't want to tell anybody yet, that's fine, I understand. If I were dating me I wouldn't…well, I don't think I'd want to date me. But we can wait, you know—if you want. However long you want. Anything, Draco, anything you want."
Malfoy lowered his head to Harry's shoulder and buried his face in Harry's neck, sighing contentedly. "Yes, Harry, yes. Tell them, tell everyone, anyone you like. Tell Severus's portrait if you wish." Harry cringed and Draco chuckled. "Well, maybe not. Can portraits die of heart failure?"
Harry shrugged with a small grin. "Leave it to Snape to become the first after hearing the news of you dating me." Malfoy's laugh was warm against his neck and Harry decided he never wanted to have the blond move from his position. "Will you be there? When I tell them?" His questions were quiet and hesitant. "Will you tell them with me?"
Draco's eyes were soft as he raised his head to kiss Harry sweetly. "I would hold your hand in front of Voldemort and Dumbledore themselves and tell them we're together." Draco echoed his previous words back to him and Harry's heart unclenched. "When shall we speak to your Gryffindors?"
"Now?" Harry suggested. "I know where they are, and I know myself, and there's no way I'm going to be able to keep how I feel about you a secret. Anybody is going to know it just by looking at my face."
After studying him carefully, Draco nodded happily. "Yes, they will." The smirk lighting up his face was smug as he nuzzled back into Harry's neck, standing like that for several more minutes before Harry spoke.
"All right, then," he shook him lightly. "Let's go break the happy news to them, yeah?" Malfoy snorted and nodded but made no move to detach himself from Harry. "Come on then, you," Harry coaxed, unwrapping Draco's arms and peeling the blond from his body. "They'll be in the library."
Draco compromised for his body's removal from Harry's by giving him a bone-melting kiss that made him nearly forget all about the library and his friends and pounce on the Slytherin right there. With what he would consider to be a praiseworthy Herculean effort of will, he pulled back and shook his head to clear it.
"No distractions, Draco," he admonished sternly.
Malfoy smiled sweetly at him and kissed his cheek. "Of course not, Harry."
His innocent tone was far too casual to be believed and Harry simply snorted as he twined their fingers together before turning and heading for the library, locating Ron and Hermione within the large room easily enough. Hermione was at her usual table surrounded by several heavy books, all open and spread across the wooden surface. A rather irate Ron sat beside her, glaring down at the parchment he was scribbling tense words across. Harry released Draco's hand just as Ron raised his head, a grin flashing across his face before confusion set in. His eyes flicked between Harry and Malfoy several times before turning and nudging Hermione, who had not looked up from her notes. At Ron's prodding, she glanced up and frowned, waving Harry over and piling her books atop one another to make room at the table. They sat across from the couple and Harry cast a nonverbal muffliato before turning to the other Gryffindors.
"Ron, Hermione," he nodded at them both.
"Granger, Weasley," said Draco politely, tipping his head at both in turn.
At the sound of their names, Ron's eyebrows rose and Hermione's frown deepened.
"Erm, Malfoy," Ron nodded back awkwardly before turning to Harry. "What's up, Harry? What's with, erm, Malfoy?"
Harry knew that Ron had swallowed the urge to call the blond Ferret and succeeded, causing him to feel a tiny bloom of hope that this might possibly be all right after all. Gulping down his anxiety, Harry grasped Draco's hand under the table and felt Draco squeeze his fingers in comfort.
"Draco and I have something to tell you…" he began, not quite sure how to explain everything that had been happening with the blond over the past few days. Fuck, he would most likely have to explain the past few years.
"Oh no, Harry…" Hermione whispered. "Please, don't," she shook her head.
Harry's stomach dropped as Ron stared at her in confusion. "Don't what, Hermione? Please don't what?" He tugged on her arm but she ignored him, eyes flicking between Harry and Draco.
"I had always suspected something like this…" she murmured, looking down and shuffling her notes. "But not so soon…not the day after Ginny." She looked up and pierced Harry with a sharp stare. "Please tell me that this," she pointed an ink-stained finger in Malfoy's direction, "is not the reason you ended things with her. Tell me you didn't…" her tone turned pleading, "not to Ginny."
"Ginny and I have been broken up for ages," Harry said in a desperate voice. "We ended things more than a year ago, you know that!"
Hermione nodded once but the intensity of her gaze had not lessened any. "But Malfoy's the reason you ended things for good with her."
Draco was silent beside him, staring below the table at their intertwined hands with a fierce resolve on his face, tightening his grip as Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. No, he's not the reason…" But his words trailed off at the sight of Ron staring at him in growing horror.
"The Ferret?" he gasped. "You ditched my sister to be with the fucking Ferret?"
"Don't call him that!" Harry snapped angrily, but Ron was already speaking over him.
"Have you even seen what you've done to her? She's fucking miserable! She fucking loves you and you're running around behind her back snogging bloody Death Eaters!" At his words, silence wrapped sharply around the table like a stinging lash from a whip. Harry's entire body was clenched tight in anger; a nearby window cracked and heads rose to peer up at it in confusion. At the sound, Ron looked somewhat abashed at Harry's apparent fury, but the defiant glint in his eyes had not faded. Draco covered the hand he held with his free palm, stroking Harry's knuckles until they loosened slightly.
Ron rubbed his temples and sat back, grinding his teeth. "Harry, mate, just please tell me that you did not cheat on my sister with Malfoy."
Harry gritted his jaw and shook his head. "Ron, Ginny and I haven't been together for a very long time. So no, I did not cheat on her with Malfoy. My break-up with Ginny has absolutely nothing to do with Draco. Even if I wasn't with him, I wouldn't be with her. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I didn't want to get back together with her. But I'm trying now. I'm trying to share what's happening with me and how I feel and I'm telling you that I care about Draco and we're together and I hope that as my friends you can accept us."
Ron was silent, though the angry gleam in his eyes finally began to dim.
It was Hermione who spoke first. "We're sorry, Harry. You're right, of course. We don't mean to make you think that you can't come to us with something like this."
Ron took a deep breath. "Can we talk to you alone for a second, Harry? No offense or anything, Malfoy," he added gruffly, speaking down to the tabletop.
Draco glanced at Harry and shrugged, raising their hands to brush his lips across the back of Harry's knuckles. He placed Harry's hand gently in his lap and stood, disappearing beyond the muffliato into the maze of bookshelves.
Harry turned to Ron and Hermione to find them both staring at him in surprise. Blushing, he folded his arms across his chest, feeling defensive as he said stubbornly, "I like him."
Ginger hair bobbed in a slow nod. "Yeah, I'm beginning to see that." Harry's eyebrows rose in doubt, but Ron sounded serious as he sighed heavily. "Malfoy, though, Harry? I mean, bloody hell, Malfoy?"
Harry chuckled at his sour expression. "Tell me about it. I have trouble believing it sometimes and it's happening to me." Ron's lips twitched and Harry knew the worst was over.
Turning to Hermione, he found her appraising him speculatively. "I'm not sure, Harry. There's always been something there between the two of you. He was always able to get to you. Always. And he did seem almost desperate for your attention at times." Harry snorted at the almost word-for-word echo of Draco's description of his past antics. "You need to be careful, though, Harry," her tone and expression took on a grave tone and Harry nodded at the seriousness. "I mean it. He's a Slytherin and the son of a convicted Death Eater." Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione continued. "A convicted Death Eater with enemies. Do you think the nation is going to take kindly to Lucius Malfoy's son becoming romantically involved with their Saviour? Not to mention that he also has the Dark Mark. So you better be serious about this, Harry James Potter, because the papers are going to have a fucking field day when news of this reaches them."
Harry opened and shut his mouth several times, unsure of how to respond. He knew all that, of course, had thought about it all before, but it sounded so different coming from Hermione's mouth. Maybe it was because of how much he trusted her judgment; maybe it was actually hearing it all put into words for the first time by another person. Whatever the reason, it finally hit Harry what it would mean to come out to the world—that coming out with Draco meant coming out with Draco. In all of this, Harry had not actually stopped to ponder what this whole situation meant for his sexuality. Did this make him gay? Was he no longer straight?
Well, that much was clear by the way he had sucked Malfoy off earlier and taken pleasure in doing so. But was sexuality something switchable like that, as easily flicked as a Muggle light switch? Had he been straight up until Draco? Harry wasn't sure. He had cared for and been attracted to Ginny, he knew that. He had had feelings for Cho; he thought of her and still found her beautiful. But he remembered also noticing other boys, recalling the slight hero worship and admiration he used to feel toward Oliver Wood, how the sound of his voice had given him tiny thrills, especially when delivered in an intense fly-or-die motivational Quidditch speech. Cedric Diggory had been annoyingly all right to look at, even while Harry envied him Cho's attentions. And Blaise Zabini really was quite pretty. But all those feelings and attractions paled in comparison to Draco.
And Harry knew. He knew that no matter what, regardless of whatever horrible stories they printed or hurtful rumors they started, no matter the speculations and the name-calling, the jinxed envelopes and ignorant opinions, it would all be worth it. It would be worth it to be able to publically claim Draco as his own and shield the blond from the hatred of the world, wanting nothing more than to protect him and be able to take comfort in his warm touch.
He would not, however, pressure Malfoy into revealing their relationship before the other boy was ready. He would wait for however long the Slytherin needed.
There was only one response to Hermione's concerns.
"Yes, Hermione. I've thought about all of this. We both have. And we're both willing to risk the nation's wrath if that's how they choose to respond. He's worth it," he told them softly.
Ron grimaced but nodded. "If you're sure then, Harry. I mean, it's not really up to either of us who you date, is it? But please, spare us the gory details and the sappy proclamations." Harry agreed with a grin. "I will not, by the way," Ron added hotly, "be the one telling Ginny that the day after you chucked her, you decided to hook up with the Slytherin dark prince overlord. You can be the one to take the hex for that piece of information."
Harry cringed with a sigh. "Well, I know I said that we've thought it all through and are willing to accept the consequences, but I don't think we're quite ready to kick down the closet doors yet, so to speak."
Ron stared. "How long are you planning on keeping it a secret that you're shagging Malfoy?"
Harry shrugged. "I dunno, maybe we'll try being friends in public first and try to sort of ease everyone into gradually accepting it." A sudden thought occurred to him and he voiced it without fully thinking it through. "We should invite the Slytherin eighth-years to do something." Ron and Hermione stared at him in surprise. "They're always alone, you know, and always so quiet, and they never laugh or do anything fun anymore. They've been punished enough, don't you think?" Both Gryffindors softened somewhat at his words and nodded.
"All right, we'll think of something," said Hermione. "Why don't you go get Malfoy and bring him back over? Ron promises not to call him Ferret again. Right, Ron?" At Hermione's sharp tone, he nodded sheepishly and gave Harry an apologetic look. The corners of Harry's mouth curled up as he shook his head, noticing Hermione's gaze linger on his smile for a moment before glancing away.
Stepping from the table and out of the range of the muffliato, he began wandering through the maze of bookshelves, drifting along the endless rows of dusty tomes, ancient novels, rare textbooks, and priceless spellbooks, combing the literary labyrinth until he rounded a corner to find his boyfriend sitting at a small table underneath a large window, the orange glow of the afternoon sun spilling through the paned glass to reflect off of Draco's hair in a golden halo. The same thin journal from the other night was spread before him and a Muggle pencil was once again clutched tightly in his grasp. Harry watched him scribble neatly for a few minutes in silent amusement. Seeing Draco Malfoy clutching a Muggle pencil might just be the strangest part of the whole thing.
The journal was set down the moment he glanced up and noticed Harry watching him silently. "So," he smirked. "Are your sidekicks still speaking to you?"
Harry nodded and sat on the surface of the table directly in front of Draco, sweeping his journal to the side and settling his body in its place. Malfoy huffed but didn't complain, resting his hands side-by-side atop Harry's thigh.
"They want you to come back," he informed the blond as he finally gave in to the niggling temptation from the past several days and leaned forward to tuck a thick lock of Draco's hair behind one ear, causing the blond to blush deliciously. Harry liked his hair long. Liked burying his fingers in the silky tresses and liked the way it fell into Draco's eyes when he bent over his cauldron. In fact, he liked everything about Malfoy—his pale eyelashes, long and translucent; his sharp cheekbones and angular chin; his delicate eyebrows and the enticing way his mouth would twist into a smirk. Hell, Harry even thought his sneer was sexy.
"What?" Draco asked, frowning at the intensity with which Harry had been studying him.
"It's nothing, just…you're beautiful."
Draco flushed again and huffed as he ducked his head. "Oh, right, Potter."
Harry caught his chin between a thumb and forefinger and forcibly tilted the Slytherin's head up to meet his gaze. "I'm serious, Draco. You're beautiful. And intelligent and witty and perfect and mine."
Draco growled and yanked Harry down to him, catching his lips in a forceful kiss. Any need for oxygen was quickly forgotten as they clutched at one another, one of Malfoy's pale hands twisted gently in Harry's hair as the other gripped his shirt collar, until they were both dizzy and panting.
"God, Harry," the blond breathed. "I'm sure your friends are lovely and I have every hope that they'll accept us, but they can wait an hour or two." His voice lowered to a throaty growl, fingers creeping toward Harry's waistband. "And speaking of others, what do you think the chances are of anyone wandering past?" Recognizing the very serious glint in the other boy's eye, Harry's hand shot out and wrapped around Malfoy's pale wrist, stopping him before he could work the fastenings loose. "Harry," he whined, attempting to tug his arm free.
"Draco, no. Not here, and not while my friends are waiting for us to return so they can kindly and generously give us their blessing."
"Are you sure that's what they're planning?" Draco asked tightly.
Harry stared at him in bewilderment. "Of course. What are you expecting, them to ambush you and string you up as an example to all other Slytherins?" The words had been joking, but Draco visibly shuddered and looked away. Harry gaped at him in shock. "Draco! You cannot honestly be thinking that my friends would do something like that!" The blond squirmed in his seat but remained silent. "They don't see you as a Death Eater. That's not how people see you." Harry had been intending to comfort his boyfriend, but when Malfoy spoke, his voice whipped out low and harsh.
"Yes it is, Harry. Don't fool yourself. I'm the son of Lucius Malfoy. I have the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord lived in my fucking house."
Harry flinched at both the tone used and the words spoken. "Draco…" He knew that the blond had the Mark; of course he knew, he had known for two years now. But how could he convince him that it honestly didn't matter? Harry knew Draco's past; he had been there for most of it. How could he explain that knowing all of it and witnessing Draco emerge from the darkness and terror and sleepless nights, humbled and changed, had forever altered the Gryffindor's view of him? Harry had seen him the first day back at school, when he had stood so straight and tall and faced down the hundreds of stares from his schoolmates—face a blank mask and one eyebrow raised in challenge, Zabini and Parkinson crowding behind him with their eyes darting around the room as though fearing punishment for gazing at anything for too long. But not Draco. He held his head high and even without words, seemed to command respect. And Harry respected him for all of it. Hell, Harry admired him for all of it.
"I don't see you like that." His words were firm and Malfoy glanced up at him. "The Mark on your arm? You were a fucking child, Malfoy, influenced into a certain way of thinking since birth, following in your father's footsteps and orders—just as I followed in Dumbledore's. I'm no longer who I was at that time and neither are you." His hand slid up Draco's neck to cup his cheek tenderly. "It's who we are now that matters. And who I am now wants you in my life."
Draco's mouth slowly lost its tightness, relaxing under Harry's words and affectionate touch. He nodded and sighed as Harry kissed him, the brunet parting his lips as he lost himself in the dizzying feel of kissing Draco Malfoy, and it was quite a while before Harry remembered that Ron and Hermione were still waiting for them.
Regret slowed his movements as he pulled back and was pleased to note the way Draco swayed with him to prolong the contact. "Come on, love," he said, shaking his head to clear it. "Let's go chat with the Gryffindors."
Malfoy groaned and Harry's lips twitched as he led the way back to his friends' table.
Hermione and Ron had their heads bent together, conversing in whispers, but they both straightened and quieted as Harry and Draco approached the table and sat. Surprisingly, it was Ron who broke the silence first. "Malfoy," he nodded formally. "Sorry about the ferret comment earlier…and the Death Eater one…" He ran a hand roughly through his hair, a habit he had picked up from Harry. "This just came as a shock to me and I didn't mean it so sorry." There was a slight challenge to the way he bit off the sentence, but he held out his hand and Malfoy took it cautiously.
"It's all right, Weasley," he accepted warily. "I'm sorry as well, for…well…you know, just sorry." Ron nodded again and released his grip on Malfoy, who then turned to Hermione and opened his mouth, but she raised a hand palm-out to silence him.
"It's all right, Malfoy, don't worry about apologizing to me. I know that you're sorry, and I know that you've changed, and I know that apologizing to Ron has probably already wounded your pride enough for one day. So I have no problem putting everything behind us on one condition—" she fixed him with a steely stare, eyes narrowed, "You never break Harry's heart, and I am never then forced to break you." She didn't blink for long moments, just glared into Draco's eyes until he nodded and looked away.
"I promise, Granger."
The hard look in her eye faded into wary amusement. "Well then, welcome to being one of Harry's 'sidekicks', as you like to put it."
Harry laughed and Draco shrugged. "As long as it's by his side." Ron looked somewhat alarmed by the statement, but Hermione only smiled at his horrified expression.
It didn't take much small talk for Draco and Ron to discover a shared love of chess, a passion of Ron's that Hermione and Harry could only be thankful to now be spared. Ron summoned his set from the dorm and they immediately set up a game, arguing heatedly over who would be white. Draco won and smugly made the first move.
Turning from Ron's opening move, Harry was surprised to find Hermione gazing at him thoughtfully and he raised an eyebrow.
"You seem different," she admitted. "You seem like you're doing better."
Grateful that the smiles and soft laughter in the blond's presence had not escaped her notice, he nodded. "I feel better around him," he confessed. "I…I can't explain it, Hermione," but she shook her head.
"You don't need to. I understand." Her gaze landed on Ron and grew distant for a moment before she turned back to Harry. "It makes sense, you know. The two of you. I mean, you've always been so obsessed with him," she teased and Harry reddened at the truth in her words.
"It took me so long to realize," he mumbled, mostly to himself. Hermione reached out and touched his elbow.
"You couldn't like him then," she said wisely. "Not as he used to be. He had to first change into the type of person you could love."
Harry's eyes widened slightly at the word love. Did he love Draco Malfoy? Could he love Draco Malfoy? They had barely gotten together, barely begun to know one another. And yet, everything had always felt so much more intense with Malfoy than they had with anyone else. They had always had such strong feelings towards one another that it would make sense for old animosity to turn so quickly to love. Wouldn't it? All Harry was certain of was the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach he felt watching Malfoy purse his lips in contemplation as he considered the board before him.
"If you keep staring at me like that, Potter," the Slytherin said suddenly, eyes still studying the chessboard with a frown, "then I will surely lose to Weasley, which no self-respecting Malfoy would ever allow. As my boyfriend and significant other, you are obligated to act in my best interest. Not distracting me at this moment in time is decidedly in my best interest."
Ron snorted but made no comment as Harry flushed and looked back at Hermione, who smiled and shook her head at him. Not wanting to cause Draco to lose and Harry to suffer the blond's wrath, he shrugged at Hermione's suggestion that he study but had only been reviewing notes with her for a few minutes before Ron crowed in triumph, earning a dirty glare and a harsh shushing from Madam Pince—the muffliato had apparently worn off.
"Checkmate, Malfoy!" Ron whispered in triumph to a puzzled-looking Malfoy.
"No, wait, I…fuck. That really is checkmate." He looked baffled and momentarily dejected but quickly straightened and fixed Ron with a firm nod. "Good game, Weasley. I haven't lost a chess game in…hmm…I can't actually recall the last time I lost a chess game." Ron's eyebrows rose in surprise but he nodded at the compliment, looking smug and quite pleased with himself.
They played two more games as Harry scanned notes with Hermione, mostly to stop her from reminding him for the hundredth time how important schooling and education were—after all, Harry wanted to be prepared for any situation he may possibly encounter in the future, correct? Hopefully, he had already dealt with all the "situations" he would face in one lifetime—all of which he had survived without his fucking N.E.W.T.s.
Another victory crow was unleashed from Ron, snapping Harry out of his daze and causing Madam Pince to actually leap to her feet, shrieking, "This is a library, not the Quidditch pitch, you depraved oaf!"
Having lost the first two games, Draco's face tightened more and more with determination and was finally successful in the third, but his victory didn't stop Ron from smirking at him as he packed the pieces away. "Don't get comfortable with that lead just yet, Weasley," Malfoy warned, "because I plan to annihilate you very shortly. I'm just out of practice is all."
"Riiight, Malfoy," Ron drawled, stretching the vowel and grinning in satisfaction at the way the Slytherin's eyes narrowed.
His mouth opened to say what Harry could only imagine, but Hermione cut him off before he could. "Oh, stop it, the two of you. You're both men and you both have penises, no need to compare them." All three boys turned to gape wordlessly at her.
"Hermione!" Ron gasped, sounding strangled, but she just shrugged.
"We're not the only ones who changed in the war, eh, Potter?" Draco smirked. "And speaking of penises, we should go, don't you think, darling?"
At his words, a grimace twisted painfully across Ron's freckled features. "Gross, Malfoy! Christ, keep that shit to yourself, why don't you, bloody ponce…" His voice trailed off into mutters about appropriateness and boundaries and Draco's smirk widened.
"Well, if you want to hear something fascinating about Harry's—"
"No!" Ron insisted loudly, earning another glare and a loud pointed cough from the librarian. "No, Malfoy," he lowered his voice. "Just take Harry and go, please. There's a good Slytherin."
"If you insist," Malfoy said graciously, standing and tugging Harry to his feet. "Walk me to my dorm, please, Harry, darling." He linked their arms together and laid his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry knew it was mostly show to set Ron off, but he couldn't help it if his insides melted a little at the gesture.
"All right, Draco," he agreed, waving to Ron and Hermione before turning and strolling away from the librarian and her glares and her precious books. The walk to the dorm was as drawn-out as possible, Harry leading them down a few unnecessary routes and several "shortcuts" that led to opposite ends of the castle, but all too soon they arrived at the Slytherin Common Room entrance.
Not quite ready to say goodbye, Harry settled his hands lightly on Draco's hips and leaned in toward the blond, eyes sliding shut as his lips touched Draco's. The blond tasted sweet and sharp, like oranges, maybe, along with something richer, darker. Something that Harry could lose himself in completely. Already he was quickly becoming addicted to the taste of the other boy and the feel of his soft lips pressed so tenderly, so lovingly to his own. He pulled back half an inch, panting hot breaths into Draco's mouth. "I should go. Back. To the Tower." But he completely forgot what he was saying the second Draco's tongue touched the tender skin beneath his ear.
"What were you saying, Harry?" Draco asked huskily. "I didn't catch that." Harry hummed and tightened his hold on Malfoy.
Ringing laughter and loud footsteps reached their ears in nearing echoes and had Harry springing out of Draco's grasp, much to the blond's displeasure. They waited silently until the voices veered off down another corridor. Harry leaned only his head forward to press a kiss to Malfoy's mouth, keeping as much of himself away from the Slytherin as possible; Malfoy was a dangerous distraction. One who seemed to know exactly what Harry was doing and was rather put out by the action, but that didn't stop him from relaxing into the kiss.
"Goodnight, Draco," Harry whispered in a rough, throaty voice and Draco breathed in sharply, looking dazed.
"Goodnight, Harry."