As if the Gods themselves were laughing, Valentines fell again on a Saturday, as it had those few years ago when he'd worked up the courage to ask out Cho Chang. Neville insisted that they also go to Madame Puddifoot's, so Harry found himself dragged to the intimate restaurant. His boyfriend insisted on a great many things after that. He tried to insist that they share their food and drink, which Harry stoutly refused; he insisted that they hold hands across the table, which Harry allowed insofar as it didn't stop him enjoying his confetti-filled lunch; and, when the time came to leave, Neville insisted on a real kiss under the mistletoe hanging on the outside of the door. Harry found himself unable to refuse this as he was dragged into his boyfriend's arms and kissed without delay.
As per usual, when Neville's kisses got out of hand, Harry tried to push the other boy away. He was surprised to find that he could not. It seemed unlikely that Neville be stronger than him, but there was a good chance that it was the lack of appropriate leverage. It had seemed even more unlikely that Neville would force Harry to do something he knew made him uncomfortable, but that also seemed to be new news for the day. Finally, Harry managed to wiggle free from the boy's surprisingly strong grip and push away.
"What the hell, Neville?!" He demanded loudly, drawing the attention of some other students passing down the street.
Neville blushed. "It's Valentine's, Harry. It was just a kiss."
"You know how I feel about that!" Harry shouted. He knocked away the hands reaching for him.
"I-I'm s-sorry. I-I just wanted to show you how much I care about you, Harry."
Harry scowled, backing away further as Neville tried again to reach for him. "If you really wanted to show me how much you care, you'd respect my boundaries. Shit, Neville, we've been over this a dozen times!" He sidled out of reach again. "Don't. I'm going back to Hogwarts. Enjoy the rest of your Valentine's."
Without waiting for a response, the Wizarding Savior turned and stormed down the street. His boyfriend was smart enough to let him go. He made it out of the village without running into any of his friends and could see the gates of Hogwarts when he ran into the last person he wanted to see. Malfoy popped out from behind a tree like the ferret he was, stepping directly into Harry's path. The Gryffindor attempted to go around, only to have Malfoy smoothly glide in front of him again.
"What do you want?" Harry demanded angrily. "I'm not in the mood."
Malfoy scoffed. "Have a lovers spat, Potter?" He drawled tauntingly. "Half of Hogsmeade had to have heard it. Does your boyfriend know the truth about why you won't kiss him?"
Harry scowled, looking away from the slate-gray eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." He pushed past the Slytherin to continue towards Hogwarts.
"Sure you do, Potter," Malfoy said conversationally. "I mean, it's obvious to anyone who knows where to look…or when."
The Gryffindor felt the cold prick of guilt-laden fear. Had he been seen? It didn't even have to be before sunrise, they could've been spotted in the Restricted Section, or the corridor he'd adopted as his own. Had Malfoy been stalking one or both of them? Harry shook his head, reminding himself that they hadn't done anything, wrong or otherwise.
"What the hell are you prattling on about, Ferret?"
Malfoy shrugged beside him. "You're just leading him on. You don't actually care about Longbottom; you just let him think you do. Merlin knows why. He's not even a good snog, from what I could tell by his little display back at Madame Puddifoot's, I can't imagine he's a much better fuck."
Harry didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was because he hated hearing Malfoy tell him what he already secretly knew. He turned and grabbed the blonde by the front of his pristine robes and shoved him up against the nearest tree. The immaculate hair fell around the aristocratic face, but Malfoy didn't seem to notice as he smirked behind his white-gold locks.
"You don't know anything, Malfoy!"
"What's the matter, Potter? Upset that someone might know your dirty little secret?"
Harry drew his wand without even realizing he'd palmed it until he shoved it under the Slytherin's chin. He wasn't even sure which spell he would cast, of the many that sprung to mind. And he didn't get the chance to find out as someone new joined their private party.
"Potter!"
The Gryffindor flinched and backed away from his foe with a slight shove. He re-holstered his wand and turned defiantly to the Potions Master. Black eyes glared at him from below the furrowed brow. Harry refused to look away guiltily as Malfoy righted his robes and smoothed his hair back. Snape glanced at his precious Slytherin before returning his hard, coal gaze to Harry's defiant green.
"Malfoy, get yourself to the Infirmary."
"But, Sir, I-"
Another hard glance stopped the pureblood's protest. Harry caught the smug, self-satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eye before the blonde turned towards Hogwarts. He and Snape stood in tension-filled silence until Malfoy was well out of earshot. Harry continued to glare even when it looked like Snape might speak. It looked for a moment as if Snape might actually question Harry's actions, something he had never done, but then a group of Third Year Slytherins walked past, giving them a fairly wide berth.
"Detention, Potter, tonight, with Filch, for attacking your fellow student."
Harry glowered, wanting to argue on principle, but decided there was no point. "Fine," He spat angrily.
Without waiting for whatever reply the man may muster, he turned and started towards the school not far behind the group of Slytherins. By the time he reached the school, he'd convinced himself that he'd imagined the momentary look of concern in that black gaze. By the time he'd completed his detention with the sadistic caretaker, he was half-convinced that he'd imagined any kindness he'd ever gotten from the Head of Slytherin.