MEMORY VIAL 35: GAME OVER (YEAR 6)

Harry decided that if he had another duel with Draco, he would win this time and not let something happen between them like it had in Gryffindor Tower. After getting his nose broken, he was more amped up to catch Draco than before, even though he wasn't keen on the idea of being proven right about his theories. Given the circumstances, he preferred to be wrong, but that seemed unlikely since Draco had already mentioned he wanted revenge for his father—and stomping on Harry's face had seemed like a subtle first move on Draco's part.

At least he doesn't want to kill me, otherwise he would've done so on the train, Harry thought as he lay awake on his bed after the opening feast. This was little consolation, however. It was fast becoming a pattern for Harry to gauge his safety in relation to Draco by whether or not Draco wanted to kill him, and this didn't bode well for their chances of ever being happy together in the future.

Also, why hadn't Draco sought him out on the train like he usually did?

This was yet another piece of evidence in the mounting pile of Draco's unusual behavior.

After almost being sent back to London for trying to figure out what was going on with Draco, Harry vowed to himself that he would solve the mystery—even if his own friends refused to offer their support.

Harry stared out the black window of his dorm, feeling anxious as he recalled Draco's comments to his friends:

"I might not even be at Hogwarts next year… I might have moved on to bigger and better things…"

Harry's heart raced just as rapidly as it had done on the train. As much as his feelings of hatred and heartbreak had intensified after getting his nose broken, he didn't want Draco to not be at Hogwarts for their seventh year, and the thought alone upset Harry more than it had upset Pansy.

Hoping to banish his anxiety, Harry reached under his mattress where he had stuffed the magazines Hermione had unwittingly smuggled into Hogwarts. Thankfully, she had been the one to take charge of his trunk when Filch had approached her with a Secrecy Sensor—and while Ron's feelings of nervousness about the magazines had gotten him searched, Harry's trunk managed to slip into the castle, untouched.

After getting back into the routine of life at Hogwarts the next day, Harry kept a lookout for any notes from Draco. He expected a death threat or two at the very least. But if an invitation for snogging-at-midnight somehow miraculously found its way into his hands, Harry knew he would accept immediately, his goal being to break things off, especially if his fears about Draco were not soundly put to rest.

As the week wore on, however, not a single note found its way to him. Harry realized, with a mounting sense of dread, that Draco had ignored him on purpose over the summer, and they were no more a romantic couple than he and Cho Chang.

Harry felt momentarily relieved by this, but also indignant. The cold shoulder was worse than having his nose broken, and the longer they maintained their distance, the more fixated Harry became—and the more he lost sight of his determination to move on.

He owes me an explanation, Harry thought, while he stared at Draco's profile in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He can't just end things like this. It's not fair! I deserve to know what's going on.

Draco avoided Harry's eye at every turn, and he evaded Harry altogether whenever he could, even going so far as to use different routes in the castle whenever they were expected to run into each other. This bothered Harry worse than the pain in his hand last year. If Draco meant to make Harry simply forget him, it was having the opposite effect. Harry couldn't help but direct a large amount of his energy towards Draco, now that a void was growing between them.

Was this part of the punishment Draco so desperately wanted to inflict on Harry? Or had Mr. Thorne done something to make him act this way? Had Thorne finally used Legilimency on Draco and discovered all their secrets? Did Snape still have Draco under his influence, or was something else going on?

Harry's agitation increased through the weeks, and his attraction to Draco grew in equal measure. The danger of the relationship was no longer part of the equation, and all Harry knew was that he wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted Draco's attention as badly as he wanted to become an Auror; and it was strange, he thought, how Cho also ignoring him had not affected him as badly as all this.

On the morning of Quidditch tryouts, Harry woke up feeling angry, horny, and frustrated for not having any meaningful access to his boyfriend. They ought to have been hiding in the prefects' bathroom, waking up naked, sweaty, and bleary-eyed after having tickled each other senseless the whole night. Harry finally had the same privileges as prefects, now that he was Quidditch Captain. And that could have made their secret meetings easier to pull off, but Draco wasn't a prefect anymore, and Harry wanted to know why.

Before getting out of bed, Harry took a moment to take stock of Draco's weird behavior so far.

One: Draco had ditched his mother in Diagon Alley and put in a suspicious request at Borgin and Burkes. Two: Draco had not attempted to bully Harry on the train, until he found Harry spying on him in his compartment. Three: Draco was no longer a prefect. Four: He was treating Harry like the plague. And five: He was more attractive now than ever before—and it wasn't fair that Harry wasn't allowed to get his hands on him…

If it hadn't been for Lucius being at the Ministry last year, Harry knew they'd probably be rushing around a private room, trying to get dressed. As things stood, Harry felt like an abandoned puppy that had been left on the side of the road to either starve or be found by someone else.

After moping into his pillow for several more minutes, Harry dragged himself out of bed, put on his glasses, and got into his robes.

Surely, Draco would show up at Quidditch tryouts today. Surely, he'd be the most obnoxious spectator out of everyone. The moment Harry caught sight of Draco in the stands, he would know that the agony he'd been feeling the past couple of weeks had been for nothing, and that Draco had been thinking about him all along.

Draco would shout something like: "Careful, Potter! Wouldn't want you to strain something important… like your ego!" Or: "Trying to impress someone, Potter? It's either that, or your broom is happy to see me!" He might even say: "You call that leadership? Someone ought to show you how it's really done and order you around instead!"

Harry would soar up into the stands and deliver an invitation for Draco to join him in the changing rooms after everyone had gone. And then, when they were alone, he would rush toward him and say, "Alright, Malfoy. Why don't you show me how it's done? Give me an order. But if you can't get me to comply—"

"Get on your knees, Potter."

Harry knew Draco's words would be as effective as the Imperius Curse. He would fall to his knees and stare up hungrily at him, awaiting his next command—and he would obey, because he didn't want to be deprived of Malfoy anymore.

Draco being absent from Quidditch tryouts was enough to send Harry spiraling into magnified feelings of abandonment. It decided the matter for him: If he wasn't going to receive correspondences from Draco, then he would have to be the one to make the first move, if for no other reason than to demand closure, since the death of their relationship warranted an explanation at the very least.

Another week passed, and when Harry was on his way out of the boys' lavatory after Potions class during lunch, he froze midway out the door. Draco was in front of him, dismissing Crabbe and Goyle to the Great Hall while he took slow, idling steps backward towards the boys' room.

Harry slipped behind the door again and swiftly pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and over his head. No one else was in the bathroom with them, and Harry had a mind to see if Draco would do anything that might explain why things were going the way they were.

Draco strode into the lavatory with his usual princely swagger, and Harry flushed from the neck up when his gray eyes seemed to lock on with his for one heart-stopping moment. But Draco was skimming the bathroom, even going so far as to peer under the stalls for anyone's feet.

Here we go, Harry thought, bracing himself. He wants to be alone, so maybe I'll finally get a hint at what's going on.

It was a wonder that Draco could not hear the pounding of his heart. Harry swallowed nervously and shut his eyes the moment Draco disappeared behind the line of stalls.

Draco opted for the furthest one, went in, and locked it.

There was a rustling of clothes. Harry pushed off slightly from the wall and bent over to see how far Draco had gone. His pulse thrummed at the familiar clinking sound of Draco's belt, and he wished he could see the other boy's trousers coming off, but then realized how weird that was, since Draco was only trying to use the bathroom in peace.

"That's it," Draco said under his breath, after a long moment of silence. "It's all for you…"

Harry strained his ears, stomach flipping like an airborne pancake the moment he realized what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that caressing intonation from anywhere; he had heard it enough times the year before that it made his heart swell automatically in response.

There was the smallest of moans, followed by: "That's a good boy, Potter…"

Harry held his breath, and his fingers went numb. He wished he could move closer, but he felt stuck—and Draco might hear him if he moved. He had learned the Gumshoeing Charm at the end of last year, but was terrible at nonverbal spells, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin an erotic moment like this.

"Suck on it, love…"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and steadied himself against the wall. He had to pretend he did not hear that, otherwise he would raid the stall and pull Draco's cock under the Invisibility Cloak with him.

Draco's delicate moans carried up the high walls, and they were punctuated every now and then by a strained whimper. It was music to Harry's ears. It sounded like Draco was doing a good job on himself, so Harry gave in to the temptation and crossed silently to the other end of the stalls, so he could hear everything that much more clearly.

"I want you, Potter…"

Harry smiled. He appreciated all the clichés he had heard over and over again last year, and to this day, they didn't sound overused or stale at all. His cock ached at Draco's words, but he didn't touch himself. He only listened, breathing a bit more heavily, wallowing in the electric need the other boy was igniting in him.

Draco made a soft hissing sound, like he'd been burned. "Gimme your lips… I want them so bad…"

Harry licked the inside of his mouth obligingly. What I wouldn't give, he thought.

"Both your holes are so slutty and hot, Potter… God, I want them… I want you."

Sweat trickled down Harry's forehead. His breath was coming fast now, and he was tempted to reach into his own pants.

"You want it, don't you? You love how it feels because you're so dirty. Fuck… You're dirty just for me, aren't you? You want the whole thing in you, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said languidly, then smiled when he heard an audible gasp. "That wouldn't be so bad… If you did me, for old time's sake…"

Harry's left hand strayed into his robes. His fingers tightened around his belt and he squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the scorching heat between his legs. The fever in his brain fizzled out, however, at the sound of Draco shifting frantically in his robes.

"Potter?"

"Yeah…"

Harry hoped Draco wouldn't be too upset. He had already started to unloop his belt and unbutton his jeans, when Draco stormed out of the stall like a tornado and glared up and down the row of sinks. He whirled on the spot, eyes blazing with silver fire as he ducked to scan the floor a second time.

"You BRAT! WHERE ARE YOU?"

Harry grinned, still reeling in a daze of primal lust. "You should ask nicely… You'd get what you want more often, if you did…"

Draco followed the sound of Harry's voice, then pulled the Invisibility Cloak off him in one smooth motion. Harry grinned sheepishly, then raised his hands up in surrender.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Draco shoved the Cloak into Harry's open hands. "I was supposed to be alone!"

"You should know better than to assume being alone at Hogwarts, with ghosts wandering the corridors…"

"And don't give me that cheek!"

"I thought cheek was all you wanted," Harry went on brazenly. "But then again, I know you like to play with both cheeks whenever you're fucking me with your tongue—"

"SHUT UP!" Draco's whole face turned scarlet with embarrassment. "JUST…SHUT UP!" Without saying anything else, he pivoted round on his heel.

Harry watched the Slytherin boy throw himself over one of the sinks and begin to wash his hands. It slowly dawned on him that Draco was genuinely upset, and a cold feeling suddenly came over him.

Harry clutched the Invisibility Cloak to his chest, before saying, "I'm sorry. But after what you did—"

"You were spying on me AGAIN." Draco shut off the taps and glared at Harry through the mirror. "I'd be more than happy to break something else, if that's what you want." He turned around, and Harry shrank back.

Harry wasn't afraid, but he knew he was guilty of doing something extremely invasive. It hadn't felt wrong, though, until just now.

"You said you wanted me," Harry pointed out. "Well? I'm here."

"But I DON'T want you." Draco moved aggressively towards him. "Why would I want you anywhere near me?"

Harry dropped his eyes, knowing that everything Draco was saying was a lie. "If you want something, you can just ask."

"Oh I can, can I? Alright, Potter, I'll take you up on the thoughtful offer." Draco slapped his still-wet hands together, as if he were praying. "Would you please, pretty please—LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Harry cut in brashly, wiping a stray fleck of water from his cheek.

Realizing his belt was still undone, Draco fixed his clothes before continuing to fume at Harry. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Harry swallowed his pride like bitter medicine, while trying to organize his thoughts. "I think you do. But first off… I'm sorry, okay? I didn't expect to run into you like this, and I couldn't help myself when I realized what you were doing. And second… I like what I heard," he went on warily, hoping the admission would touch Draco's heart. "I figured you didn't like me anymore, so it was nice to hear all that stuff you were saying."

"Well, I don't like you." But even Draco knew it was an obvious lie, so he tried a different tact: "I should tell Professor Snape on you. He hasn't changed his mind about us since last year, I'll have you know."

"If you're okay with telling Snape what was going on just now, I won't hold back on describing the things you said—begging me for a blowjob. I also might suggest he read our minds, since I've got nothing to hide."

Draco's expression went dangerously blank. "You're a disgusting piece of filth…"

"Oh, yeah? Well, you love it. You said so yourself. 'Dirty for only you.' " Harry stepped closer, forcing Draco to take an awkward step back in retreat. He adjusted his robes while folding his Cloak away into his pocket.

"What do you want?" Draco asked softly.

"I know there's something up with you," Harry said gravely. "But it's got nothing to do with you not liking me, even though you're acting like it is. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Draco said, frowning.

"Rubbish. I know it's something. If Thorne was the problem, you would've told me, and same thing with your stupid mother. So what is it?"

"I told you! N-o-t-h-i-n-g."

"Liar…"

Draco stared in amazement at him. "What do you know…? You're no Legilimens, and even if you were—"

"I don't have to be a Legilimens, Malfoy." Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulder when he tried to leave. "You weren't at Gryffindor tryouts, or our first practice! If that's not a dead giveaway, I don't know what is."

"Why should I watch losers trundle through the air like Confunded butterflies? I have better things to do."

"You were always there to heckle me before," Harry said passionately, tightening his grip on Draco's left arm. "I'm Gryffindor's new Captain, and you weren't there to rip into me like you normally are."

"Like I already said, I have better things to do." Then, Draco feigned pity: "But I'm sorry to hear you're feeling lost without me, Potty… I figured you'd be flourishing without me pruning away your leaves."

"Quidditch is our thing, Malfoy! We always play rough on and off the pitch, like you said last year. We hound each other for it—and I think you'd agree it's only ever been you and me out there. Remember when we first flew together during our first class with Madam Hooch?" Harry tried to pull Draco closer, but his body, like his countenance, was immoveable. "It's always been us! Even though you weren't on the Slytherin team yet, it's only ever been about you and me…"

Draco tilted his head. "Maybe… Until that ugly weasel wormed its way onto your team."

Harry blinked. "You're jealous of Ron? He'd never come between us—you know that! I love him as a friend, but my feelings for you are completely different—"

"Wrong weasel."

Harry stammered. "N…not Ginny. You're jealous of Ginny? She's a fine player, sure, but—"

"You're completely unaware of yourself, aren't you? Oh… I was there during your first Quidditch practice, Potter, for all of ten minutes before I left. If you only knew, red hair is as good as a red flag." He made as if to leave again.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me—"

"Get over it, alright?" Draco shouted, whirling around on him. "Move on, Potter. There's a whole school of smarmy girls waiting for the 'Chosen One' to get into their panties. Shag one of them and leave me alone."

Harry's nails dug into Draco's sleeve. "I don't want them."

In that moment, he forgot he hated Malfoy. He forgot they were enemies, and he forgot the relationship would never work.

Draco looked down at the hand that was holding him in place. The scars from Umbridge's Black Quill shined like pale chicken scratch above Harry's knuckles. Draco's own scars from Thorne's Black Quill were mostly healed, but he hadn't done hours of lines like Harry had done.

Draco rotated his arm back and yanked free. "Piss off. I'm tired of playing with you; I always lose."

"You wouldn't lose so much if we were on the same team." Harry stumbled after him.

Draco paused, then locked eyes with him. "It's done. Game over, I quit. I want out. Now leave me alone before I hurt you again. It's for your own good—and mine—now let me go."

Harry did as he was told. The silence in the lavatory was broken only by the sound of the leaking faucet when Draco had left, and a flood of unasked questions and accusations filled Harry to the brim.

It didn't make sense for them to discard their relationship like this… not without a proper explanation. Not without closure.

You're under Voldemort's duress, aren't you? Harry thought. Or someone else's? You wouldn't just turn on me like this—not when it's obvious you still feel something.

Harry was convinced that Draco was not a danger to him like Lupin had suggested, even though Draco had just said as much. A truly dark Draco would never have listened to him. An evil Draco would have kicked his teeth in and tortured him for spying a second time. It would have been the broken-nose scenario all over again, but worse, and the conversation would not have taken a strange turn the way it had. There wouldn't have been any references to jealousy, or comments like, "I always lose."

Harry wanted to slap some sense into Draco, but he didn't know what he could do if he always meant to fight him off.

Not to mention: I wanted to end it, Harry thought angrily. What you're doing to me isn't fair… It hurts. I'd rather you broke my nose again than ignore me anymore.

Harry wished he had it inside himself to truly hurt the other boy and make him scream. Seeing Draco writhe and bleed for once would be a balm to his battered heart, especially since he didn't know how much more of the mistreatment he could take.