MEMORY VIAL 24: A MUDBLOOD'S EYES (YEAR 5)

Not long after Harry's meeting with the other students at the Hog's Head, where Cho had made it very plain to Hermione that she liked Harry as more than just a friend, Hermione asked Harry when no one else was listening, "Are you going to move on? You have a chance to move on now if you want."

But Harry failed to catch her meaning. "Move on?"

"From Draco. Since things obviously went south last year, and nothing's been repaired… right?"

Harry knew she was still suspicious about their confrontation in the prefects' bathroom. It was not far-fetched for her to imagine the boys were up to something, especially since they'd been snogging only a few months prior. But Harry knew that Hermione trusted him to tell the truth, and so he lied through his teeth with, "That's right. It's as if nothing even happened at the Yule Ball. Malfoy can't stand my guts."

Hermione relaxed at that, grateful to hear that Harry had not done anything impulsive with Draco that he might regret. "Good. I don't want you getting hurt again, Harry, and I don't want you to have to worry about him using you because of his dad. I figured you might move on with Cho, now that she's really showing some interest. You could have a normal relationship now, without all the worrying."

"Sure…"

Except Harry was calculating how to be with Cho and Draco at the same time—following Draco's lead in how he conducted his relationships. After all, Draco had been encouraging him to land a girlfriend too, since he was convinced their relationship would not last beyond the year, and he also wanted it to appear as if they both had normal lives.

As guilty as Harry felt for lying to Hermione, he simply couldn't tell her the truth about him meeting with Draco nearly every night for the past three weeks. He was no longer interested in only being with Cho, and his interest in her did not include emotional entanglement like it did with Draco. With Draco, he felt something that he couldn't call by any other name except love; whereas with Cho, he wanted to impress her and felt certain urges, but it wasn't anything like love.

If this is even love to begin with, Harry thought.

Maybe he was just lying to himself since, after all, he had never experienced the real thing before, or seen it firsthand. And Draco was beginning to make Harry doubt himself with the way he constantly discounted Harry's feelings whenever he expressed them.

Harry managed to earn a total of thirty-five points for Gryffindor during his trysts with Draco, although Draco had decided to stop giving him so many points, since he still meant for Slytherin to win the House Cup, and it would attract suspicion if Gryffindor's points began to climb too quickly or surpass the other Houses without clear explanation. Harry grudgingly agreed that Draco should retire their Play-for-Points agreement until further notice. He wasn't doing anything with Draco for the points anyways, but an element of the fun was ruined when their roleplay was abandoned.

Also, to further cover their tracks after being caught in the prefects' bathroom, Harry made sure that the Marauder's Map was on him at all times, even during classes. This prevented his nosy friends from tracking him again, but also had the added benefit of making it easier for Harry to locate Draco in the empty halls whenever they agreed to meet in the boys' lavatory during classes.

Their brief encounters during the daytime were frenzied and passionate. It never took long for either of them to climax—during the rare times that they snuck in a quick wank—and Harry managed to swallow Draco's cum on more than one occasion, when he insisted on feeling Draco in his mouth again. Harry found that the taste of his boyfriend was growing on him, and he became increasingly more comfortable with swallowing whatever came out so that he developed a surprisingly real craving for it.

At night, they usually spent their shared time in conversation, although they tended to relieve each other with mutual handjobs before straying too deep into the weeds of each other's stories.

Harry wondered if he would be able to get a similar romance going with Cho. He was intensely curious about what it would be like to play with a girl—if certain parts actually looked and felt as "weird" as Draco said—and he decided he would have some fun with her also if given the chance.

Best case scenario, Cho would make Draco jealous, and then Draco would understand how Harry felt whenever it came to Pansy. Maybe Draco would stop acting as if Harry's professions of love were a nuisance—and Harry fantasized about Draco dropping the façade and admitting that what they had together was real love.

But what was real love anyways? How were either of them supposed to know it when they felt it?

Harry felt strongly enough—and possessive enough—when it came to his boyfriend. And he loved to kiss and touch and cuddle, which made everything feel right in the world around them, even if everything was going wrong. If that was not a clear sign of true love, then he didn't know what the hell to look for.

Safety?

He had that also, strangely enough.

Constant sparks and butterflies in his stomach? Someone cute to talk to about Quidditch? Someone who would joke and wrestle with him for no reason?

Check. Check. And check…

I bet my parents had true love, he thought. And Sirius and Lupin, too. So what's the thing they all have in common? Harry thought long and hard about this question, but was unable to come up with an adequate answer.

During the weeks that passed before the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, Draco jeered and intimidated Ron every chance he got, since Ron was the new Gryffindor Keeper. But Harry resisted standing up for Ron, since he imagined it would only embarrass his friend more than the actual teasing. One evening over dinner, however, when several saucers of gravy, pesto, and horseradish were magically lobbed at the back of Ron's robes from across the Great Hall, Harry had to shut his eyes and close himself off to the clangor, otherwise he would have marched over to the Slytherin table and earned himself a third round of detentions with Professor Umbridge.

"Would you give Ron a break?" Harry asked Draco later that evening at their usual spot in the prefects' bathroom.

Draco took his time responding from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet. After rifling through a few more pages, he folded the paper into halves twice, then said, "Tch! It's all just part of the game, Potter, you know that. You and I always play rough, and it never gets old."

"Is that how you excuse calling me a nutter in front of everyone, when you know it isn't true?"

"We have to maintain appearances," Draco said in an unflinching tone. "Until you come to your senses and switch sides, I'll do what's right in my own way."

"By hurting me?"

Draco tossed the Daily Prophet onto the floor. He bounded easily onto his feet and swaggered up to Harry, scowling. "Did you come here to do what we came here to do, or are you spoiling for a fight?"

"Maybe I should leave you to yourself," Harry threatened. "Or maybe I should write to that psychomancer of yours and tell him everything you've been up to."

Draco grabbed a fistful of Harry's robes and yanked him close, a murderous twinkle in his eyes.

Harry stumbled over his own feet, but made sure not to break the eye contact.

"I'll out you too, Potter… to the whole school. We're in this together, aren't we?"

"I don't care."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, you'll care when Gryffindor spits you out like chewed gristle and strings you up with the Dangling Curse. You think people don't like you now? Just wait till you have 'QUEER' carved into your forehead, instead of that stupid scar that has protected you from our superstitious schoolmates until now."

"If that's really what'll happen, then I know for sure you won't out me." Harry straightened his back. "You might not want to say it out loud, Malfoy, but you feel the same type of love as I do and can't help it, can you?"

"Even if I did, I have every right to hurt you if you deserve it. If I think it'll set your mind straight."

"You're sick. Monstrous. I can't believe I ever did anything with you."

"Oh, yeah? We'll see how long this tantrum of yours lasts." Draco let him go, and Harry staggered back a few steps.

"You're just like your father."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Well, you shouldn't. He's a disgusting excuse for a human being."

"Yeah? Well, so was your mum."

Harry clenched his fist. "Insult my mother one more time and you'll never see me again…"

"Oh, please." Draco sneered and laughed at the same time. "You're a slut for me, and you know it. You couldn't keep away even if You-Know-Who stood in your way."

"I hate you." A deadly rage surged through Harry, and he felt the blood rushing into his face. "God, I hate you…"

"Good. Maybe that's how it should be, right? You and me on different sides; not lovers, but enemies."

"You're evil." Harry was doing his best to contain his tears, but his vision blurred dangerously.

"Then fucking learn your lesson, Potter, and stay the hell away from me."

Harry rushed at Draco and shoved him halfheartedly in the chest.

Draco moved back a couple of steps, looking amused and bemused at the same time.

"Piss off. Cunt." Harry stormed toward the door to the bathroom, but Draco swiftly pulled his wand out.

"Colloportus!"

Harry swore when he reached for the door handle, and it refused to budge. Impatiently, Harry whipped out his own wand—nearly ripping his robes in the process—then shouted, "Alohomora!"

Draco calmly repeated the Locking Charm, having already expected Harry to unlock it. Then, he trained his wand on Harry and uttered the incantation, "Silencio!"

Harry repeated the counter-spell that would unlock the door again but was startled when he realized that he had no voice. Panicked, Harry whirled around and glared rabidly at Draco.

"That's right, Potter," Draco said softly, savoring the fear on his boyfriend's face. "I've been practicing that one with my mates ever since Third Year. But you won't be telling anyone, will you?" He smirked when Harry fumed defiantly towards him, becoming angrier, trying to shout. "There, there, love… No need to overreact. But you're so much easier to handle when you've got no voice. If you weren't so upset, I'd ask if you wanted a treat for being such a good boy and holding your tongue." Draco held out his hand. "Now, give me your wand, and we'll talk for a bit. Then, I'll let you go."

Unwilling to let Draco lay his hands on it, Harry threw his wand across the bathroom in a fury.

Draco grinned gleefully at that, feeling suddenly aroused at Harry's display of hostility. "What a temper! You do know I can just retrieve it with the Summoning Charm if I wanted? And I'd be lying if I said you weren't sexy as hell when you get like this… Bloody hell, I want to kiss you…"

Harry shoved Draco away a second time when he attempted to get close.

Draco relented and then decided that Silencing one of the most hotheaded boys he knew might not have been the best idea. "Right. You won't be told what to do unless I give you points for it, is that right? Vocalis Liberare!"

"I'M NEVER KISSING YOU AGAIN, YOU SKINNY-DICKED, PASTY-FACED PIECE OF SHIT! WHY DIDN'T YOU SIMPLY USE EXPELLIARMUS LIKE ANY NORMAL WIZARD, YOU LOATHSOME GIT!"

Mildly annoyed, Draco raised his eyebrows. "Should've expected that after canceling out my curse. But if you just listened to me, Potter… you might like what I have to say."

"Try me," Harry said aggressively, feeling as if nothing in the world could be less true.

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

Harry stammered but continued to huff and puff. "What…?"

"I hurt you for the second time in the past few weeks. I'm sorry, alright?" When Draco did not receive any plaudits for his apology, Draco repeated himself: "Alright?"

Harry nodded slowly at first, figuring that he had no choice but to react positively to what the other boy had just said, especially since he had only ever gotten an apology once—maybe twice—before. "Alright…"

"I care about you," Draco said more easily, a small smile sprouting at the corners of his lips. "No matter what I think of your mum, I care about you and those pretty eyes of yours—and I care about what we do together, and everything else we've talked about when we've been in here."

Harry lowered his chin thoughtfully. "You like my eyes, do you?"

"They're probably my favorite thing about you… although, your mouth and dick are competing for that honor. Your eyes are beautiful, Potter. Like priceless gems."

After a minute of carefully measuring his words, Harry said, "Do you know that ever since I started going to school here, everyone who's ever known my parents has told me that I've got my mother's eyes?" Harry fixed him with a bland stare, and Draco's smile faltered. "Yeah. You get my meaning, don't you? Her eyes were green. Not my dad's. My mum was Muggle-born, and I have her eyes."

A creeping hatred came over Harry as he watched the disgust worm its way into the muscles of Draco's face. "I love my mum," he continued shakily. "I'm proud to have her eyes. And I hope you still like them, but even if you don't, I guess that answers a few questions I still had about you."

Harry moved aside to retrieve his wand. When he made it back to the bathroom door, Draco asked, "What questions did you have?"

"Like, do you really hate Muggle-born witches and wizards? Because if you do, that must mean you hate parts of me as well." Harry cast him a wounded look.

Draco stared at him, at a loss of what to say.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Harry muttered under his breath. And then: "Alohomora."

Draco watched Harry leave the room. The echoing silence that followed left him feeling cold. The fight was not resolved, and the air was still thick with the competing energies of their lust and animosity—and he felt like he would have done anything to turn back the hands of time and answer Harry's initial question with, "Alright. I'll leave Weasley alone. Now come here… let me kiss you… I missed you…"

Draco pointed his wand at the Daily Prophet and shouted, "Incendio!" He left the bathroom soon after, feeling angry that his favorite part of Harry was tainted by one of the worst Mudbloods that he knew of.

It can't be, Draco thought as he stormed into the dungeons. He's lying. Potter's only trying to get under my skin. But Harry hadn't lied to Draco about anything so far—and Draco supposed Harry had to be damn tolerant, or selfish, to be willing to meet with him again.

Harry and Draco managed to set aside their disagreement for the weeks that followed by ignoring it. They were too motivated to have fun with each other to really care about the resentment that still lingered, although they walked on eggshells whenever it came to Professor Umbridge, Voldemort, and their parents. Then one evening, Harry had an idea that he hoped would separate their romance from the real-world tensions that kept feeding their mutual antagonism. "Let's make a promise," he suggested, after they somehow avoided spiraling into another argument, "that we'll not talk to each other about anything that could put us at odds when it comes to everything that's happening around us."

"Sounds like an idea," Draco said warily. "But how long do you think we'll be able to do that? At some point, you won't be able to keep your head out of your arse."

"Good to know you have that much faith in me."

"I mean, we can pretend that nothing's going on in the world, but you and I both know that isn't true. Something's bound to happen, and how do you expect us to handle it when you can't be bothered to admit you're on the losing side?"

Harry resisted the temptation to argue over who was right. "I've got an idea."

"Then let's hear it."

"Pledger's Chalk," Harry said. "It was mentioned in that stupid textbook Umbridge has us reading. We'll draw a line with the Chalk and make a promise to each other. According to Slinkhard, every time we step over that line, you and I will be bound by that promise until we cross back over it. It'll sort of preserve two sides of reality for us, so we can relax while we're in here. It's just too bad we can't make it binding at all times."

"Speak for yourself, Potter. I love arguing with you."

"Only because you're a pain in the arse." Harry smirked at him. "It's worth a try though, right? Let's get a hold of some Pledger's Chalk. We can do some research on it in the meantime, but what do you think should be the consequences if we break our promise?"

"The one who breaches the promise dies," Draco said stoically.

"You're okay with dying?"

"Me? If anyone's going to flub this stupid idea, it's you."

"Then how about we lose our voices as a consequence? It's appropriate, and it's inspired by you after that Silencing Charm you pulled on me."

"So if you get saucy about my father, you'll go mute again? Clever idea. But… I love your voice. Especially when you're begging."

"You're such a dog." Harry grinned at Draco with a salacious gleam in his eye. "So, how 'bout it?"

"Sure. It can't hurt, I suppose. But you're sort of taking away my ability to influence you."

"And that's the point."

"But I don't like that."

"Well, too bad." Harry repressed a triumphant smile.

"Oh, come on, Potter…"

They talked the idea over for another few minutes, and when they came to an agreement, Harry readied himself to go back to his dorm, but Draco stopped him with, "Oh, by the way…"

Harry fixed the front of his robes, picked up his Invisibility Cloak, and turned around.

"Good luck at the match on Saturday." Draco's voice was brimming full of sarcasm. "I have a big surprise for Weasley that he'll never forget."

"That reminds me," Harry said curiously. "I've been meaning to ask, why aren't you captain of the Slytherin team? Figured you'd be a shoo-in with how you're able to buy your way into everything."

"Believe me, I was planning on it," Draco said, ignoring the accusation. "But between prefect duties and the O.W.L.s, my father didn't want me going after the captaincy, even though I convinced him to help me get it by buying me a—uh…" Draco stopped himself before he gave away a secret he was not quite ready to be honest about. "I mean… after I got my prefect badge in the post, Father said I'd be overwhelmed with work, and Mum agreed. He was happier about my badge and said it'll take me farther than being captain of the House team. Hope you're ready to get wiped."

Harry's eyes glittered balefully. "In your dreams."

"You're always welcome in my dreams, Potter," Draco breathed, "sans the robes. Speaking of which… we still have yet to get you naked."

"You have to have a reason before doing that," Harry flirted without missing a beat.

Draco's eyes dilated as Harry made his way to the door. He raised his voice. "If you want a proper thrashing, Potter, just say it! I'll grant your wish. If you ask nicely."

Harry paused in front of the door. He and Draco had gotten so comfortable with handling each other with their clothes on that real intercourse seemed like the next logical step in their relationship. "You can give me a proper thrashing during the game first," Harry said cryptically, then forced his legs to take him out into the hall. He did not look back, and his heart pounded over what Draco had been hinting at.

Real sex…

Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak on when he was halfway down the corridor. The walls passed in a blur on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, and his body felt positively electric at the predatory look Draco had given him. So far, he had been too afraid to ask Draco to do more with him, even though he'd been daydreaming about it for months. He kept in mind his talk with Lupin, and Draco did not seem like the type of person who would be patient if the sex was painful. Draco also did not seem like the type of person who would be okay with being on the receiving end, so that option was off the table, even though Harry would prefer to be on top.

What will it feel like? he wondered.

Not like one's fantasies on the first go, Lupin had mentioned. But what if it turned out to be just as magical as everything else they had done so far? What if it felt even better than all that?

And what if it felt like Harry was being stabbed repeatedly, and he never wanted to try it ever again? What if it ruined their relationship, or Draco insisted on getting it elsewhere?

By the time Harry made it back to his dormitory, he was on the verge of panicking.

What if I disappoint him? he thought fearfully. What if he gets bored with me? What if I'm no good? It's been Beginner's Luck so far—and what if he realizes he's not bent after all, and it's all my fault because I can't let him inside—and he runs off with Pansy and shags her instead, and I can't bear it because I love him?

Harry steadied himself beside the trunk at the foot of his bed. None of his roommates stirred, and he was relieved knowing that none of them had caught on to him going to bed in his clothes most nights so that he could sneak out to meet with Draco.

I really ought to get a girlfriend, Harry thought, amid the tornado in his mind. If this doesn't work out, I'll at least have her. Draco's everything to me right now, and that feels dangerous…

Harry removed his Cloak and robes, then switched into his pajamas. He set his glasses on the nightstand, crawled into bed, and…

What if he breaks up with me? What'll I do…?

It was all he could dream about for the rest of the night: Draco telling him he's useless, the sex being disastrous, and the whole school finding out during the Quidditch match that he'd been sneaking around with Draco, thanks to Lee Jordan announcing it to everyone.

"You thought I loved you?" Draco scoffed in Harry's dream from atop a brand new Firebolt. The newly caught Snitch struggled in his grip. "You…? Gross! I was playing you the whole time, and I can't believe you fell for it."

"He fell for it!" Lee Jordan shouted, and everyone in the stands roared this in unison at Harry, a sea of red, yellow, green, and blue all laughing at him at once. "He fell for it, and Draco caught the Snitch! He fell for it, and Draco caught the Snitch!"

After the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, all Draco could remember were knuckles, sparks scattering before his vision, and fierce green eyes that outshined the shock of George Weasley's red hair. Sore as he was from the physical beating he had sustained from Harry and George, Draco recovered quickly with the help of Madam Pomfrey, and he was back in the Slytherin common room with his friends on the same evening.

It did not feel like they had lost the match. The energy in the room was just as boisterous as if they had won, although all of them were nursing resentment towards Harry for him managing to get the edge on Draco with the use of his Firebolt.

Graham Montague knuckled Draco on the back and said, "You would've gotten it if it weren't for that kindling he was on. You saw the Snitch first."

"Yeah, mate. We've seen what you can do during practice," said Goyle. "Too bad your dad wouldn't get you a Firebolt, though. The Snitch would've been yours if you'd been evenly matched."

Everyone in the common room agreed, but Draco felt a sinking in his stomach every time Harry's Firebolt was mentioned. He glanced uneasily out the windows and watched the ribbons of kelp and waterweed undulate in the currents of the Black Lake.

Miles Bletchley praised Crabbe for whacking Harry with the Bludger at the end of the match; he tossed Crabbe a Butterbeer and recounted the story of how Harry had been launched off his broom and landed flat on his back. No one commented on how Draco was attacked. It was a taboo subject to everyone present in the room, although Draco was unable to stop replaying how he had egged Harry on because of his own ego.

Detecting that Draco wasn't feeling quite himself, Pansy sat next to him on the loveseat with a couple of Butterbeers in hand. She handed one to him, then reclined her head against his shoulder while watching the play-by-play reenactments of Crabbe and Goyle.

When their Butterbeers were empty, Graham and Miles brought out a crate of Firewhisky to howls of excitement. "Provided courtesy of Harold," Miles announced, while holding Dingle's hand up in the air—a sixth-year Slytherin who was the school dealer for anything and everything illegal.

Crabbe and Goyle dished out several boxes of Fluttering Sweets and Ethereal Eclairs to everyone who was joining in the afterparty. The Ethereal Eclairs made anyone who ate them feel as if they were traipsing through golden clouds miles off the earth, although they hardly worked on Draco.

Draco felt just as sober after eating two, and the comedown from the so-called high left him feeling far worse than when the party had first started.

"You're still my champion," Pansy whispered, nudging Draco with her elbow.

Draco smiled weakly, then raked his fingers through her dark hair as he wrapped an arm around her. "I'll wipe the floor with him next time. You'll see."

"I know you will." Pansy set her ear against his chest.

"Try this out," Dorian Holdsworth said, breaking the two of them apart as he leaned over the backing of the loveseat. He held a snifter out in front of Draco. "Basilisk's Bubbly. Dingle nabbed some while we were in Hogsmeade. He almost got caught with it, so he's insisting on it disappearing by tonight."

"I should turn you in for having this," Draco said, looking impressed. His body temperature rose a couple of degrees in response to the older boy's proximity.

"Well then," said Dorian, "what's stopping you?"

Draco looked askance at him but said nothing.

The blue drink bubbled in the snifter, while edible, multicolored basilisk eggs bobbled in miniature among the fizz. The eggs weren't real basilisk eggs, Dorian explained to Pansy, but they were magical euphoriants enchanted to mimic the effects of Muggle drugs, depending on which color of egg one chose to eat.

"The bottle alone has to be a few hundred Galleons," Draco explained to her. "It's quite the theft."

"For one box of eggs, yes, it's three hundred Galleons," said Dorian. "But the Bubbly itself isn't really that expensive. Forty at most. So, Pansy, if you only drink it and avoid the eggs, it'll be no different than if you were drinking overpriced Firewhisky. But drink it with an egg, and it'll enhance whatever enchantment is on that egg." He nudged Draco with an encouraging grin. "Go ahead. You earned first dibs. You did a great job out there no matter what the Gryffindorks say."

Draco took the blue drink out of Dorian's hand and sniffed it. It smelled like carbonated snow and anise, if such a scent existed. He grabbed the miniature spoon Dorian held out to him and used it to fetch one of the eggs out of the drink.

When Draco popped a green-speckled egg into his mouth, he took a sip of the Bubbly, and the first thing he was aware of was how completely relaxed and slowed down everything felt. It felt like someone had put a warm, fuzzy blanket around his shoulders. Everything that had been vexing him all day slid off his back like jinxes off a Jobberknoll—and then there were the tingling sensations in his body, followed by a sleepy euphoria that made him decide he would need to buy more of these faux basilisk eggs off Dingle, specifically the green ones.

Dorian offered the cerulean drink to Pansy next. "I'll take a pink one," she said, and spooned a rose-colored egg into her mouth before downing some of the liquid. Millicent and Daphne helped themselves as well, and the rest of the Slytherins either took an egg or focused their efforts on holding down as much Firewhisky as they could—and so the party went on.

Time passed like a sluggish drumbeat in Draco's mind.

Slower…

And slower.

He was overflowing with feelings of love and being loved, and eventually he was outside his body watching himself cuddle with Pansy, their faces pressed together in a kiss.

I wonder if I'm enjoying that, he thought idly.

Half an hour passed, and Draco was still inside the common room, although his body was nowhere to be seen. As he drifted among his friends, convinced he was in a dream, he felt the pull of his physical body leading his detached form down the corridor which led to the boys' dormitories. Draco followed the invisible lifeline, and when he opened the door to his room, he found that his bed hangings were drawn roughly shut and a dainty foot was peeking out between them. A pair of robes, his shirt and trousers, and a skirt were all lying in a pile beside the bed, and he realized that he had finally done the thing he had been unable to do while he was sober.

He felt eerily calm the closer he got. You did it mate, he told himself. You shagged a girl. But he felt cheerless.

When Draco tumbled through the bed hangings, having been sucked in by an invisible force that was stronger than himself, he expected to hear a crash, but everything stayed quiet.

Draco woke abruptly in his bed. Pansy's warm, sleek body was nestled against his. He could not remember anything, but he felt her naked skin and was almost certain about what they'd done.

Draco sighed. A bra was occluding his vision, and he tossed it aside.

He regretted not sleeping with Harry first.

He regretted sleeping with Pansy at all, but he did not regret how happy she would feel now that they'd hit another milestone in their relationship. They still had yet to carve their names into the bole of the Pairing Tree, but she seemed to have forgotten all about it, and he hoped she would never bring it up as long as they were at school.

Draco's mind wandered onto a few more lingering regrets…

He regretted not humiliating Weasley more before and during the Quidditch match. He should have employed some of the insults Montague had told him to hold back on, since they would've been potent enough to throw the whole Gryffindor team off kilter. He regretted not using the song he had originally invented, a song with the harshest profanity and the nastiest insults that he, Crabbe, and Goyle had been able to think up.

And he regretted losing Harry to the Weasel boy yet again. It rankled him.

Last year, Weasley had been marked as Harry's treasure, and, this year, Harry favored Weasley over Draco during the Quidditch match—which made sense since Harry and Weasley were on the same team. But the game had always been about Harry and Draco and never about the blood-traitor who was now getting in the way of their favorite sport.

Quidditch is our thing, Draco thought possessively. How dare the Weasel King get in the way of that…

Draco waited in the prefects' bathroom at the usual time the next day, on the off-chance Harry would show up. To his surprise, Harry indeed walked in. And not only that, Harry rushed at Draco—and Draco worried that Harry meant to attack him a second time, to finish the interrupted pounding Harry had given him on the Quidditch field.

Draco flinched towards the bathtub that was set into the floor, wishing he had Crabbe and Goyle to step in for him.

"Would you consider," Harry said in an unexpectedly calm voice, "reconsidering how you act in class when Hagrid starts teaching again?"

Draco felt like he had missed something.

"He's back," Harry said breathlessly, although he looked more worried now than while Hagrid had been absent. "I don't want you and your friends making him look bad when Umbridge assesses him. I don't want you going on about things that might've happened in the past."

When Draco grasped what was going on, he said, "But you know he's always putting the class in danger."

"I know!" Harry shouted. "Just let it go for once, alright?"

"Why do you overlook when I get hurt? You prefer that incompetent oaf over me?"

"I don't want to pick a side because I like you both. For different reasons, obviously, but I don't want to give up either of you. Hagrid's been more loyal to me than you've ever been, though, and he's passionate about his work, although I admit he can be a bit eccentric. He just doesn't realize what he's doing half the time, and he's oblivious to snobby little rich boys not paying attention in class."

"That makes him dangerous, Potter. Not eccentric. And my father says he's the adult, not me, so quit trying to flip the blame onto me. You're covering for him."

"He's passionate!"

"And so am I," Draco retorted. "I'm passionate about exposing Weasley for the awful Keeper he is."

"That's different!"

"How is it different? Someone ends up hurt in either case."

"It's different because that song you wrote was foul, and it's nothing like you. Your poetry is beautiful, and that song was just plain ugly."

"First off, I'll take the compliment. Second, an ugly song for an ugly bloke, so what's the problem? Or is he so soft and sensitive that he needs you to step in for him? I figured you wouldn't even show up here again after what happened."

"I considered not showing up," Harry admitted. "The things you said at the end of the match were disgusting, but I figured I'd give you a chance to make it up to me. So we can still have fun, you know? And besides—" Harry extracted a piece of Chalk from his pocket and waved it in the air "—it turns out Hermione picked up a couple of these when we were in Hogsmeade. She meant to use it for something else, but when I asked her where I could get some, she said she didn't need it anymore."

Draco's lips curved up. So Harry's threat about never speaking to him again if Draco insulted his mother one more time had been a bluff. "So… how do you want me to make it up to you?" He stepped forward, regaining the swagger in his step.

"Remember last year when you said you would steal the moon for me if you could?"

Draco lowered his head. "Yeah."

"Well… How would you feel about stealing my Firebolt?"

"Your Firebolt? Why on earth would I steal your Firebolt?"

Harry told him how he, Fred, and George were permanently banned from playing Quidditch, and when he was done explaining, Draco worked his mouth into a frown. "Bloody hell, Potter. As much as I wish Umbridge hadn't done that, you know I can't just waltz into her office and take it back."

"What's harder?" Harry pressured Draco angrily. "Summoning the moon, or taking back what's rightfully mine—after it was your fault it got taken in the first place?"

"I didn't make you hit me."

"You provoked me!"

"So? Or do I get to do anything to you when you provoke me? I'm not against having that rule, Potter, but I want to make sure we're clear."

"You're such a bastard…"

"Hold on. This is what the Chalk is for, right? We promise to leave all our issues outside the room."

"I still get to tell you what a piece of work you are before we draw the Line. I still get to make demands and say whatever the hell I want!"

"Then so can I. You provoked yourself, Potter. I was only ever telling the truth—like you. Weasley is the worst Keeper in a century, especially compared to Miles. I get second-hand embarrassment just watching that blundering idiot."

"You could replace Bletchley with a fairy. I've seen statues move faster than him."

"He's one of the best Keepers Slytherin has ever had!"

Harry scowled. "Which isn't saying much."

"Meanwhile, Weasley couldn't block the Quaffle if it was hit with a Slowing Charm."

"Ron did just fine! We won, didn't we?"

"Only because you caught the Snitch and saved him from complete embarrassment. Gryffindor's victories are always due to luck, not skill."

"Luck or not, we still won. You're just bitter because you lost."

"I'm bitter because the Weasel King couldn't track the Quaffle to save his life."

"And I suppose your Keeper is a prodigy?"

"Compared to Weasley, everyone is a prodigy, including that little sister of his!"

Harry had to admit that even he had wondered if Ginny would have been a better choice for Keeper, but then scolded himself for having such a disloyal thought. "Funny, coming from someone who's obsessed with his precious Nimbus Two Thousand and One. And look what good it's done. You have yet to beat me to the Snitch."

"At least my broom doesn't look like it's one gust away from falling apart."

"You wish your broom had half the character of my Firebolt."

"Character? Your Firebolt looks like it's been through the Whomping Willow and back."

"It has character! And you know the way it looks is part of the design."

"How about learning how to take proper care of an expensive broom like that, huh? Get it serviced, Potter. Then maybe it wouldn't look half as bad as your hair."

Harry bit his lip. "But you like my hair," he said in a teasing voice, "Malfoy…"

"Shut up."

"Which means you like my broom also. You just have a hard time admitting it—among other things."

"Shut up."

Harry was unable to contain his smile. The tension between them dissolved almost instantly, and even Draco had trouble suppressing his grin.

After a minute's silence, Harry decided to return to what they had originally been talking about. "So will you be less harsh about Hagrid when Professor Umbridge watches him?"

"Hagrid needs to be replaced with a proper teacher," Draco said unapologetically. "All my friends are getting better grades under Grubbly-Plank's supervision, and Care of Magical Creatures is one of my favorite subjects. I'm sick of that half-breed messing it up."

"It's strange," Harry said slowly, heart plummeting at Draco's response, "how you can act like you like me, but then not give a damn about anything I care about."

"It's because I have feelings for you that I'm so concerned about who you hang around. They're worthless. You're wasting your time on them—"

"No one's worthless, Malfoy."

"Except Crabbe and Goyle, right? And Pansy? According to you, anyway. You act like a saint, Potter, but you're anything but. You hate everyone in Slytherin just because of the talk you've heard."

"I don't hate everyone in Slytherin—and I'm going based off what I've seen. The whole lot of you are bullies."

"Well, don't count me as one of the Slytherins you don't hate. I'm not your token, Potter. And what have Blaise or Daphne—or any of our first-years—ever done to you or that Mudblood?"

Harry swore. "You can't even say her name like a decent person! It's always 'Mudblood' this, and 'Mudblood' that."

"If you at least spent a day with us," Draco went on, "or if you'd been Sorted with us—"

"I tried to spend a week with your friends a couple years ago, but every last one of you ignored me—remember?"

"On my orders. I was worried they were going to find out I had a crush on you, so I told them to ignore you."

Harry had not realized that. He paused for a moment, then said, "Well, you never spent a meaningful day with anyone from Gryffindor. I think you'd get on with Ron, if you could see anything past your own nose. Honestly, Malfoy, most of the fighting happens because of you."

"I wouldn't 'get on' with him," Draco corrected with asperity. "Not now—not ever! He's a blood-traitor! And it matters to me what a wizard's values are. Your values have been compromised, but that's only because you were groomed by that halfwit servant from the start. Everyone you hang around is either dangerous, impure, or touched in the head."

"Malfoy, I'm warning you—"

"For the hundredth time, you know I'm right! But if I scare you off over how I treat your friends, it'll just prove what I said earlier: this isn't real love, so we shouldn't pretend it is."

Harry stepped closer, steeling his resolve. "I'm not pretending, and neither are you. You have too much to lose, I think."

"I don't even know why you're here," Draco said quickly, deflecting Harry's attempt at intimacy by turning his back on him. "I hate everyone you like."

"Same." Harry shrugged, thinking of Sirius. "I guess I'm hoping you'll snap out of it one day."

"That's what I've been banking on all these years, too." Draco looked at him again. "That you'll come to your senses. That you'll come to me."

"I am coming to you."

"For answers, I mean. For help, money, advice, protection. For everything."

"You can barely fight your own battles, let alone mine. And your friends can't stand me. They wouldn't put up with me."

"I'd make them see it my way if you admitted you were wrong. They knew I wanted you when we first met, and Pansy was jealous, but she got over it. All my friends just went along with it when everything took a turn for the worse between us."

"They'd never care about me, though. Not like Ron and Hermione."

"The same 'friends' who didn't tell you a damn thing all summer?"

Harry felt cornered by that statement. "Neither did you."

Draco's tone sharpened. "You never asked, Potter!"

"Wouldn't have mattered if I did."

"If you hadn't have yelled at me—"

"I fucked up last year—I know! We've been through this a hundred times—you don't have to remind me."

Draco grabbed Harry by the hand and jerked him forward. "Don't start sulking on me again, you whiny little brat. I wasn't trying to guilt you just now, alright? It's just a fact: we would've been talking all summer if last year hadn't ended the way it did. But it's just as well… It would've been harder for me to do what Thorne said if we'd been flirting in our letters."

"I would've gladly screwed everything up for you."

Draco smirked, picking up on the tender sentiment behind the harsh way Harry said that. "You really do go looking for trouble, don't you?"

Harry shrugged. "There's no other way to live, I guess. It's not like I try looking for trouble, it just comes to me all on its own."

For a while they stood and smiled at each other. Draco's eyes glinted in the chandelier's candlelight, and Harry blushed when he realized how closely Draco was studying him.

"I love how strong you are, Potter. When you asked a while back why I like you, I think I'd add that to the list."

"Thanks." Harry felt his whole body becoming warm, and he felt like he ought to give a compliment in return. "I like how passionate you are, Malfoy, and I love seeing you have fun. It's like seeing a completely different person."

"You bring that out in me, you know. You're unhinged sometimes, and it has an effect on me."

"You also make me horny just by looking at you."

Draco snorted. "I only wish you weren't so perfect all the time. But you're not perfect, are you? You've got flaws in all the right places, and it's damn beautiful…"

"Really horny," Harry urged, as though he couldn't make the hint any more obvious.

Draco smiled devilishly, then leaned in, brushing his nose against Harry's in the way that Harry loved. "Is there something I can do about that?"

Harry's heart began to beat faster. "Obviously…"

A minute later, Draco was standing in front of him, fingers stroking the underside of Harry's cock. Harry's back was against the wall with his trousers pushed down to his knees, and he squirmed in an effort to increase the friction between his legs.

"Close your eyes, Potter…" Draco caressed Harry's cheek with his lips. "I have a surprise for you. Now, relax…"

Harry swallowed back his nerves and closed his eyes, wondering what sort of surprise Draco had in mind. There was a rustling sound, and when Harry felt something soft and warm against the head of his cock—a kiss, he realized—he opened his eyes and stared in disbelief at the blond head that was bobbing eagerly between his legs. Draco Malfoy was kneeling in front of him, and Harry moaned as a thrill worked through him like a thunderbolt. He did his best to relax under the onslaught of Draco's tongue and mouth, but simply knowing what was happening to his cock was driving his senses into overdrive, and he tensed as the velvety warmth closed all around him.

Harry made a warning noise. "Malfoy… I think I'm gonna—"

Draco pulled Harry out just in time, but the Gryffindor boy clawed at the back of Draco's neck with a groan of disappointment.

"Nearly came, Potter?" Draco looked up at Harry, his tongue swirling over the skin around his bellybutton. "After being in my mouth for only a few seconds…?"

Harry closed his eyes and groaned pitifully. "I'm not used to it like you are…"

"You're a virgin in every way, aren't you?" Draco kissed his stomach. "Or at least you were before you had me?"

Harry's face broke into a smile. "Will you just tease it a bit…? While you suck…? I don't wanna come too soon… it feels too good, and I want it to last… So if you could pull it out and tease it every few seconds…"

Draco smirked. "No promises. But I'll do my best."

Harry gasped at the wet fluttering he soon felt around the ridge of his cock. "Holy shit—that's too much teasing—" And when Draco took him inside again, Harry pushed gently around the inside of his mouth, exploring how hot and silky everything felt. He couldn't believe how delicious the suction gripping onto him was, especially whenever his cock slid back on the withdrawal.

"Oh my god…" Harry swallowed around a groan. "Please… just like that…"

The slippery suction of Draco's mouth brought him to the edge a second time. Draco took frequent pauses, however, after realizing how sensitive Harry was to being blown. The buildup eventually became too much for either of them to control. Draco alternated between licking and sucking, and Harry found it difficult to keep standing against the wall as the pressure in his balls intensified, making them feel heavy. When Draco started sucking at just the right speed, Harry lost himself to the erotic rhythm and emptied himself in Draco's mouth while whimpering like a tortured animal.

Draco did not relent on the pace he had set. He swallowed Harry's cum even as it gushed into his mouth, and the taste was everything he had dreamed of, so that he pressed Harry against the wall and sucked even harder on the pulsating cock.

When Harry's weak and whimpering cries reached Draco's ears, Draco released the twitching cock and wiped his mouth. He looked up at Harry who was trembling in a sort of shellshocked daze, cock still swollen and bruised red but wilting quickly.

"Merlin… You're the hottest little thing, Potter."

Harry's eyes slit open, unable to focus on the boy kneeling in front of him.

"It was twitching in my mouth like mad, and I lost it. I've never come without my hands like that before. Not while I'm awake, anyways."

Harry groaned dreamily in response, and for a moment he thought he could hear the gurgling of the pipes in the walls and a ghostly squeak that sounded familiar. But Harry didn't care. It didn't matter to him if Moaning Myrtle had seen what they'd just done. He was too mellowed out by his first blowjob to care if Ron or Hermione walked in on them, either. This was beyond his conception of heaven. This was a hypnotic sort of bliss—a paradise too hot to really stay in for too long…

"We better get back to our dorms," Draco said, standing up. "But we can meet during classes in the boys' bathroom tomorrow, if you'd like me to suck you dry again."

"You enjoyed doing that…?"

Draco grinned sideways and watched Harry clumsily hitch his trousers back up. "Swallowed every drop, didn't I? Nothing in the world tastes as good as you."

Except treacle tart, Harry thought to himself. Although Draco's taste was growing on him with each day.

"I'll send you a note over breakfast. Let you know during which class we should meet."

"How about during all of them?" Harry cut in seriously, following Draco as the Slytherin made his way for the door. "Let's go somewhere private and do it all day."

Draco chuckled under his breath and turned to look at him. "I wish, Potter. I wish I could have you all day and night… But we need to study for our O.W.L.s and we need sleep."

Harry yanked Draco away from the door and unbuckled the Slytherin's belt in one deft move. He met Draco's startled eyes with an angry look, although he didn't know where the anger he felt was coming from. "Fuck sleep. Fuck the O.W.L.s and fuck everything else. I don't care if you're all used up right now. At least let me clean you off before you go—"

"Hang on there—wait." Draco lifted Harry back onto his feet just as the boy had scrambled onto his knees.

"No. I don't wanna go to sleep—"

"Me neither."

"Then stay. Malfoy…" Harry looked at him, pleading.

"Jesus, Potter…" Draco searched his face, feeling confused. "I guess a few more minutes couldn't hurt, but—"

Harry grabbed at Draco's neck and pulled their foreheads together. Love me, his heart screamed when Draco couldn't help but kiss him. Don't ever leave—and don't ever hurt me. EVER.

Harry shoved Draco against the door while yanking Draco's trousers down.

"Open your mouth, Potter, and look at me…"

Harry had collapsed onto his knees and was licking the whole mess of Draco's limp cock into his mouth. He kept his eyes on Draco's flushed face the whole time and was pleading silently with them. I'm good, see? He licked some cum off of Draco's inner thigh. I'm a good boy, now don't hurt me…