Fic: A Tiny Little Full-blown Obsession
Title: A Tiny Little Full-blown Obsession (part 1/2)
Author: dirty_darella
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I profiting nor am I affiliated with JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic or whoever else holds the rights.
Warning: slash (m/m sex), rimming, slight voyeurism
Notes: Humor, smut, AU (set like sometime after OoTP)
Word Count: around 14,500
Summary. One peak of Malfoy in the Quidditch showers and Harry becomes a tad enamored. Hermione is no help at all.




When Harry heard what he recognized as sounds of distress, ever the Gryffindor, he chased them down to save the day. Well, Harry, ever the Gryffindor, didn’t really stop and evaluate the situation all that well before rushing in. Had he in fact paid even the slightest attention to these noises of distress, he would have perhaps recognized that they were actually gasps and moans of pleasure, not pain. But since he hadn't, he was quite surprised when he rushed through the Quidditch locker rooms straight to the showers only to be met with an extremely... evocative sight.

Draco Malfoy, nemesis extraordinaire was standing under a showerhead completely naked. And wet. And obviously wanking.

Harry found his feet glued to the spot at the sight of water dribbling down all that perfect, ivory skin. It ran over Malfoy’s tight abs and lean legs, through his silver-blond locks, over his perfectly sculpted shoulders. His head was thrown back, one hand lazily circling his stomach, the other slowly stroking his hardened shaft. When he pinched a perked pink nipple and moaned Harry realized his own cock was really enjoying the show, if the twitch it gave was any indication.

Somewhere in the recesses of his conscious Harry thought he shouldn’t be standing here watching this. He should just quietly sneak away. Or maybe join in. No, no, sneaking away was the right thing to do. And he planed to. Any minute now, he was- oh god now Malfoy’s other hand had moved down to roll his balls and that had to be the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Harry really should be getting out of there and now. He could go back to his dorm, lay on his bed, and wank himself raw for the next two weeks.

But then Malfoy’s hips started rocking as he fucked his own hand and the little moans and gaps grew louder. Harry could feel the wet patch in his pants where the head of his cock was rubbing against the fabric. And hey, when did that tricky little hand of his sneak down to rub his erection? Cheeky little thing. Oh well he’d scold it later.

He timed his rubs with Malfoy’s trusts. A sudden urge rose to go over and wrap his own hand around that beautiful cock of the blond’s, to lick all that lovely skin, to nibble on those luscious lips and to actually cause all those little moans. And even though Malfoy could open his eyes any moment and see Harry starring at him while palming his own cock, he just couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

Malfoy’s thrusts sped up, his hand pumping in a blur and he started to make all these delicious moans and groans and Harry had to bite down hard on his lower lips not to moan as well. He was practically clawing at his pants over his own hard cock, but he had never been as turned on before as he was now. Watching the muscles of Malfoy’s abs and legs dance under that silky, pale skin that was flushed from the hot water and arousal as he thrust into his elegant hand was the most amazing sight. After a particularly hard squeeze to his cock Harry was coming, shooting straight into the fabric of his genes and doing his best not to cry out in ecstasy.

Malfoy came, pearly globs of come shooting out of his erection during Harry’s own orgasm and Harry had to suppress another moan as he felt an extreme flutter of pleasure in his gut. The blond remained under the spray with closed eyes, slumped against the wall, panting.

Now, free from his desperate desires, Harry’s mind started to clear and alarm bells went off. He may have been a Gryffindor, but that cleaver little sorting hat had once told him he’d make a good Slytherin. So he proved it right by committing a very Slytherin act and running the hell away from there as fast as his cowardly legs could. Out the locker room, onto the pitch, jumping onto his broom and flying right up to the castle doors. It was rather worrisome making his way to his dorm and praying his robes concealed well enough that he had just creamed his pants while watching Malfoy wank.


***


Harry skipped dinner that night, afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep from reacting while that gorgeous Slytherin would be eating across the room from him. He told Hermione and Ron, as politely as he could while irritably hard, to bugger off. He wasn’t feeling well and he just wasn’t up for it. Heh. Well he was up, but not for dinner.

After wanking frantically and spilling onto his sheets, twice, he started to think about a new worry. What if Malfoy had seen him? But no, he couldn’t have, Harry would have noticed if Malfoy had seen him. What if Malfoy did somehow know? What would the Slytherin do then? He’d hold it over Harry’s head until the end of time. And even if he didn’t know, how could he ever look the Slytherin in the eyes again after watching what was obviously a very private moment and getting off on it like some common pervert?

Harry didn’t sleep much that night.


The next morning at breakfast Harry kept his head down, sure to keep his eyes away from the Slytherin table. After a few minutes of pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate he felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder. When he looked up Ron was looking at him, his eyebrows drawn together in a look of concerned.

“Alright, mate?”

Hermione sat next to him, wearing an identical expression.

“Fine. Tired.” He said, then at their escalated expressions of unease corrected, “Just worried about school stuff.” He amended.

Hermione and Ron shared a look, but Harry wasn’t all that interested it because at that moment he glanced over to see Malfoy starring at him with a neutral look, indifferent in every way. Harry’s heart started to palpitate. Fuck fuck FUCK Malfoy KNEW. But then the moment was over and Malfoy was looking farther down the Gryffindor table with that same neutral look. Harry sighed, if Malfoy did know, surely he would have done something by now.

“Harry?”

The brunet spun his head around to Hermione again. “Huh?”

“You’re essay. For Charms.” She drew out the words like talking to a small child and Harry just continued to star blankly at him.

She rolled her eyes, “I guess that means you haven’t started yet. We should all meet in the library later.” She fixed Ron with a firm look before picking up her bag and walking off. This year she was really pushing them in preparation for N.E.W.T.s.

“Slave driver.” Ron mumbled under his breath and Harry sniggered.


***


Somewhere along the way of living in the muggle world, Harry had learned the famous story about the man who killed the old guy, chopped him up, and put him under the floorboards. When the police came, for whatever reason, the man was so confident he had done this so well without anyone finding out, he actually invited them to stay and have tea, or some rubbish, right over the floorboards where the old guy he had just killed was. But then he started to hear a heart beating and was sure the police were mocking him like they knew. Harry, although he hadn’t actually killed Malfoy and shoved him under the floor, felt very much like that man. At first he had been so sure that he had gone unnoticed, but now he was going crazy with the worry that Malfoy knew somehow.

The way he would look at Harry sometimes with such indifference it had to be faked. Or sometimes he would glance innocently, or sneer just a bit too long and Harry’s heart would just about explode with fear that he was going to tell everyone just what a naughty boy Harry had been. Wouldn’t the Daily Prophet just love that. And what would his friends think?

Hermione, being the brilliant witch she was, must have noticed something. Although it might have been obvious something was going on with the way Harry always seemed to get so damn jumpy every time Malfoy so much as entered the room. But, bless her, all she would do is give him questioning looks and go on her merry little way. Harry could NOT talk to anyone about this. Never. It would just have to be his secret, hidden away under his floorboards.

The next strange stage Harry seemed to go through was wanting to see the scene again. Although he had pictured Malfoy’s flawlessly beautiful skin again and again when he stroked himself at night, the memory was starting to fade a bit. The little details were getting hazy. He couldn’t hear Malfoy’s moans as well anymore, or picture that wonderful cock of his humping into those smooth hands. He fretted about it night after night. He wanted to hear those little whimpers again, anything to revive parts of the memory. He became obsessed.

Even though he still didn’t know if Malfoy knew what he did or not, he just had to hear those noises again. So he did the only thing he could in order to get Malfoy to grunt and moan.

He picked a fight.

As he was just entering the great hall one afternoon for a late lunch with Ron and Hermione, Malfoy was leaving. Harry saw his opportunity right away. As nonchalantly as a nervous, jumpy boy could, he pretended to be talking to Hermione seamlessly unaware of where he was going and ignored the warnings from his friends before he collided with the blond.

He was thrilled when Ron, ever the loyal Gryffindor friend, chimed in with a spiteful, “Watch where you’re going, Ferret.”

Malfoy sneered. “Are you blind Potter, or did you just expect everyone to jump from the path of the Boy Who Lived and bow at your feet as you pass?”

“Sod off, Malfoy.” He spat. He had almost forgotten how easy it was to get into a fight with the git. He pushed him and there it was, that little huff of breath that escaped his lungs as Harry’s hands collided forcefully with his chest. Harry was already getting hard.

“The fuck!” Malfoy yelled and his fist smack into Harry’s side with an audible thump. Burning, stinging pain erupted all down his left side with the contact, but Harry kept going on instinct now, throwing out his fist and connecting it none to gently with Malfoy’s jaw. The blond’s head snapped back, neck twisting at an uncomfortable angle. It was all worth it with the groan that followed as Malfoy’s hand went up to gingerly touch the damaged cheek.

Oh. Such a perfect groan. Harry wished he could have created it in pleasure, not pain. He was hard, really hard from savoring that small little noise, his pants uncomfortably tight as the fabric rubbed his erection. He just prayed his robes would stay in front and no one would notice.

With an enraged growl, Malfoy grabbed Harry by the front of his collar and threw him up against the wall, pressing firmly into him and the Gryffindor instantly loved the feeling.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Potter? Taken one to many hexes to the head?” His eyes were flashing, beautiful mercury glaring daggers at him. Something was different, he seemed angrier somehow than he usually was, like this was more than just some random fight between the two of them. He pulled back and slammed Harry into the wall again, pain erupting down his spine as his head collided with the unforgiving stone.

All he could be arsed to care about was the sensation of Malfoy’s firm body pressed into him. He prayed the layers of fabric hid the fact that he was hard as the blond pressed into him and sneered.

Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione holding Ron back from hexing Malfoy, although he wasn’t in the right mindset to even realize why she would be stopping him. McGonagall came rushing to the scene with pursed lips and glaring eyes. “Boys!” she shouted, sounding powerful and enraged. “Still getting into these petty squabbles. Is it so much to ask to act like proper adults?”

Malfoy, and Harry was sure he had to have imagined this, gave a small wink before pushing off and pretended to dust off his robs. He had just imagined that, right? Right. Malfoy had probably never winked in his live. Oh god, what if he had noticed Harry’s erection, was he going to embarrass him in front of the crowed that had gathered sometime during the fight?

“Twenty points from each Gryffindor and Slytherin. And detentions Saturday for both of you.” McGonagall lips were now a very thin line but Harry was too busy having a mini panic attack about what Malfoy would do. Which is why he was so shocked when Malfoy simply shrugged and walked away like nothing had just happened.

When Harry turned to his friends however, he felt very uneasy at the knowing looking Hermione was giving him. Oh god, she knew.


***


Harry kept his head down during transfigurations. He could still see the anger in McGonagall eyes whenever she glanced at him. And the fact that he had gone off and wanked in the closest loo he encountered right after the fight had him too ashamed to look at Malfoy.

After class he desperately avoided Hermione, who he could tell was trying to get him alone for a talk. Hermione was an extremely intelligent witch, and quite intuitive to boot. So it was no wonder she deduced from Harry’s actions he was avoiding her. Okay so maybe it was made a little more obvious when he had seen her coming down the hall with a determined sort of look, and in a fit of panic he grabbed an unsuspecting first year Hufflepuff and practically threw them in her path as he dashed off in the other direction.

The next evening he felt a bit bad for skipping out on the library session they were supposed to have, but instead snuck away in his invisibility cloak to do homework in the Owlery while Hedwig gave him company. Luckily for him, even though the image would probably scar him for life, he was glad to notice as he slipped by them in the common room that Ron was doing a good job of distracting Hermione with his tongue down her throat. He supposed his friends had been doing a pretty good job of hiding their own secrets.

He shuddered at the memory of them kissing, just a bit disturbing to him as he looked out the Owlery window, ignoring the books on his lap. Hedwig was obviously feeling ignored perched on his shoulder because she gave a lock of his hair a sudden tug with her beak.

“Sorry girl,” Harry reached up to stroke her chest feathers in an attempt to placate her. “I’m a right mess. Malfoy’s always been able to get to me, but now things are worse than ever.”

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and smoothed them down again and Harry laughed, wondering if she was trying to tell him anything.

Just then he caught sight of someone flying on the pitch. He jumped to his feet, wincing when Hedwig tightened her talons in his shoulder. He leaned out the window in search for the flyer, but the sun was just setting and he was having a hard time seeing anything in the half-light. Letting his seeker instincts take over, he scanned the area, in the sky, on the grass. And there! A flash of silver blond hair identified the flyer as Malfoy.

Harry’s insides were swimming, would Malfoy shower after his flight? He had to get down there right away. He shooed Hedwig away, who was none to pleased and let him know it by nipping at his hand. After savagely throwing everything into his bag Harry dawned his invisibility cloak and tore down the spiral steps of the Owlery and out onto the pitch.

Malfoy was still flying when he reached the locker rooms and he allowed himself to pause, hunched over with a stitch in his side from running. He took a moment to watch Malfoy’s graceful movements in the air. The way his body leaned into a turn, the ease of his legs and arms with the broom. He was an amazingly good flyer, each graceful movement a clear show of his mastery. Not to mention an incredibly arousing sight.

It was getting too dark to really make out Malfoy’s figure in the sky so Harry carefully snuck into the locker room still under his cloak. Immediately, he staked out the best position in the room, a corner right on the edge of the showers where he would still be able to watch Malfoy undress, and made sure to arrange himself in his cloak and make sure no part of him was showing. Now all that was left was to play the waiting game. In some part of Harry’s head he might be slightly ashamed of the fact that he was using his father’s invisibility cloak to spy on a boy in a shower, and that might have come off as just slightly questioning in morals, but at this point all he wanted to see was Malfoy’s perfect skin flushed and wet again.

It didn’t take long before a metallic squeak informed him that the locker room door was being pushed open and his heart started beating erratically. How is it that Malfoy had reduced him to this? He was pathetic. But more importantly to his libido-controlled mind, he was hard.

Malfoy walked in, more casually than Harry was use to seeing him. He was looking around in what looked like -almost- a nervous fashion, but his face was kept completely a masked and emotionless. He laid his broom down carefully on a bench and after his eyes darted quickly around the room once more his hands went to the claps of his robe. Was that a slight tremor in his hands?

Harry’s mouth went completely dry as the robe slipped off the blond’s shoulders onto the floor, reveling more of that alluring body. The buttons of the white, pressed, shirt came undone next. One by one opening the shirt to revel inches of heavenly skin at a maddeningly slow pace. Harry wanted to be the one to unbutton that shirt, to run his hands over all that skin and feel it smooth and warm under his fingers. He could imagine just how gloriously soft it would feel as he cherished ever inch of Malfoy’s perfect skin.

The cuffs were the last to be unbuttoned and the shirt was slowly shrugged out of. Dammit, Malfoy was driving him crazy without even knowing it, getting undressed like this, dragging it out so tantalizingly. The blond’s eyes drifted around again and he bit his bottom lip. Had Harry not had all the usual blood in his brain currently redirected lower, he might have been thinking properly and could possibly have reflected this behavior as peculiar. As it was, he was far too horny to care. Especially when Malfoy’s attention turned to his belt and was currently sliding it slowly out one loop at a time.


Malfoy sat down on the bench next to his broom and undid his shoes, slipped off his socks, and then stood against and started unbuttoning his trousers. When they were dropped to the floor, Harry couldn’t help the quiet, breathless groan at the site of him. His sculpted chest like a marble statue, his lean muscles flexing under his thighs, and the thing that made his mouth water was the site of Malfoy’s half hard cock. In fact it made Harry moan audibly before he even realized he was doing it.

Malfoy’s eyes snapped to over where he was standing, searching and Harry’s fright kicked up a notch. FUCK he had to get out of there. FUCK he was so screwed. His heart was racing, palms sweating. Malfoy started to swagger over and Harry pressed back as far as he could into the wall damning that he seemed to have lost all his goddamn Gryffindor bravery AND Slytherin cowardice and instead picked up what appeared to be a mouse's natural reaction to fear: stand absolutely still and wait for death or its equivalent.

Just as he was sure Malfoy had found him out, walking right where he was standing, the blond kept moving, past him and into the showers. He turned on a showerhead, adjusted the water, and stepped in. Harry’s shaky legs almost gave out but he remained up right with the support of the wall. Malfoy hadn’t noticed. Harry was one lucky bastard.

Instead Malfoy now seemed completely erect without Harry having even seen him touching himself. Were showers really that erotic for Malfoy? It didn’t matter, that and all other thoughts went completely out of Harry’s mind when the Slytherin arched his back and ran his hands through his silky hair, lathering shampoo and the suds were traveling down his arms, rounds his shoulders, over his stomach and it was beautiful and perfect just like Draco.

After the shampoo was rinsed out leaving Malfoy’s hair shining like liquid silver, he moved on to soap up the rest of his body. The angle he was at was absolutely perfect for Harry’s little show and before long Harry’s cock was twitching and leaking and practically screaming for him to touch it. Maddening. All Harry could do was watch as Malfoy’s hands traveled over his own body. He shouldn’t even be watching this at all, but how could he not when Malfoy’s fingers graced his nipple, squeezed, pinched and the gasps and moans that followed were like an orchestra to Harry. A song entitled Arousing Pleasures for the Soul.

Harry started to ghost his fingers over his bulge before he decided if he was going to do this there weren’t going to be any half ways about it. He unzipped his pants and slid them halfway to his thighs before grabbing the base of his cock and slowly running his palm up and down the underside while he watched the steam that had build up in the shower, dancing around Malfoy’s body in white clouds like he was some sort of Greek god.

Apparently done with his washing, Malfoy worried his lip, slid his hand down his chest and curled his fingers around his cock. Harry watched mesmerized as Malfoy pulled his length up in a few hard strokes, occasionally giving the head of his cock a quick squeeze and twist. Malfoy’s face was a mixture of emotions: Concentration, pleasure, and determination. All defined with closed eyes, brows drawn together slightly and the parted pink lips with gasps and moans slipping out.

When Malfoy hissed out a “yes” and started fondling his balls Harry had a sudden jealous flash of knowing Malfoy was thinking about someone. He wondered who the bitch was. For a brief moment he saw red as the anger washed over him, then it was replaced by a desperate sadness in the pit of his stomach, a feeling like a brick dropping into his gut. He was surprised by the intensity of the desire for it to be Harry who Draco thought of while wanking. They were silly, pathetic thoughts. It would never be him.

Malfoy’s hand moved from his balls, slowly creeping back until- shit- he was pushing a finger inside and Harry’s body was shivering with pleasure from the site. Harry wanted to go over there, to pull Malfoy into his arms and whisper to him how beautiful he was, so incredibly sexy. But instead he bit his bottom lip hard enough to bleed while watching Malfoy fuck himself with his finger, arching and moaning all the while.

Seeing Malfoy arch forcefully, moaning loudly, and having pearly streams of come squirt out onto the shower floors was what sent Harry over the edge. He bit down on his knuckles hard enough to taste blood as he shot his load into his hand. Before he opened his eyes he cast the cleaning spell on himself, as if seeing what he had just done would make it too more real. When he did open his eyes he almost gasped at the sight of Malfoy looking over in the direction Harry was currently in with a small smile curving the sides of his gasping lips.

He knew Malfoy wasn’t really looking at him, knew he couldn’t see him and it was highly unlikely he had anyway to hear his stifled noises while under the spray of water, yet a very uneasy feeling washed over him all the same. If Malfoy only knew, if anyone knew what Harry had just done they would be disgusted. His aunt and Uncle had been right; he really was a freak.

He went to bed that night wishing he had more than just fantasies to keep him warm at night.


****


Potions was hard. Well, Harry was hard, but also potions was difficult. He had to keep reminding himself not to stare at Malfoy. Being Harry Potter, he could appreciate not wanting people to look at you all the time, especially when unawares and he had already done that to Malfoy twice. He was wrong and twisted and a freak and he should have never invaded Malfoy’s privacy even once.

They were making some sort of relaxing potion and he really wished he could have worked with a partner, particularly Hermione because his potion wasn’t looking right. It was a glossy, pale yellow when it was supposed to be a saturated green. Hermione's was green. His was fucked.

Snape was prowling down the isles checking over the progress and informing students of how stupid they were and how they should just craw into a hole and die because they lacked the ability to brew a potion, or something along those lines. Harry was frantically checking over the ingredients and steps, trying to see were he went wrong. While leaned over his list, frantically grinding more gurdyroot with his mortar and pestle, a shadow moved over him. He looked up to see the pointy face of none other than Draco Malfoy.

His heart jumped. So did his cock.

“Really Potter, can you not even brew a simple sleep potion?”

Then, to Harry’s horror, Malfoy extended that pale, aristocratic hand dropped something into his caldron. He didn’t even see what it was, besides a gray blur before it was swallowed by his oily yellow concoction. Before he could even react, Malfoy walked away.

He was livid, he was raving, and he was really quite pissed. Malfoy had sabotaged his potion, the sod. He was going to kill him.

Snape walked by before he could even think of a way to fix it. He nodded curtly and continued on to the next student. Harry gapped, his jaw dropping and eyes bulging. One more look at his potion and it was now the same vivid green as Hermione's. Had Malfoy just fixed his Goddamn potion? The blond was looking at him when he swiveled around to continue gaping. A smirk crossed Malfoy’s face, but it seemed less malicious and smugger than anything else. He made a strange gesture of waving his hand in a circle, a pantomime of stirring then turned his attention back to his own potion.

“Pssst,” He heard Hermione and glanced over. She pointed to his cauldron, which was now starting to bubble, and mouthed the word ‘stir’.

Harry did, automatically. His mouth still open in shock before he realized that he must look like a goldfish and shut it with an audible snap. It was a little unsettling that Malfoy had just helped him, if he actually had. He probably thought Harry owed him now. Maybe he wanted something. Or maybe he was just fucking with Harry’s mind. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.


***


Malfoy was obviously straight. Pansy Parkinson, the bitch, was always hanging off his arm in a clear show of being his girlfriend. Even if he were gay he would still never want Harry. He hated Harry, if for nothing else, for landing Lucius in Azkaban. There had even been that nice little vow of killing Harry because of it. So all Harry had were his constant fantasies.

They wasn’t just in the showers or bed anymore. He fantasized almost every moment of the day, escalated by the blond's presence. He started to notice little things about Malfoy, like his smell, a woodsy scent with an underlining presence of citrus. Or the way he stopped slicking back his hair every day, and on the days when it was raining it would become wavy with extra volume. Each small detail eventually worked its way into his fantasies, filling them out and making them richer.

There was so much to Malfoy Harry had never appreciated enough before, like his intelligence, wit, and fiery spirit. Or the way he was always able to act so comfortable and confident in his own skin and carry around an aristocratic presence. His passion for things were spectacular, like potions and Quidditch, so heart felt the way he threw so much of himself into them. He always seems to know Harry so well, able to get Harry riled up without even a moment’s notice. Granted lately he’d been riling up Harry in a whole new way.

During a particularly boring lecture from Flitwick one day Harry let his eyes wonder over to where Draco was sitting with a look of utmost concentration. His hand was working quickly to take notes, capturing every bit of information that he could. Little specks of black ink freckled his skin, contrasting drastically with his pale hand. He really did have lovely hands, smooth skin stretching over the shapely tendons, blue lines that marked the veins just below the surface where all that pure blood was pumping. The inconstant light from the flickering candles moved soft shadows between his fingers and under his palm defining their form so perfectly. Draco was a work of art in every way.

Harry started to wonder what would it be like to hold him close and snuggle up to his warm body as Harry fell asleep at night. To kiss those hands before bed, every knuckle and finger one at a time. To feel them wondering over his skin, bathing him in their tenderness. To wake up every morning with Draco in his arms knowing Draco was his.

Harry abruptly threw on the brakes of that train of thought and back tacked. When had his thoughts of Malfoy gone from sexual to... to... well to something more? And when had he started calling him Draco in his mind? This was a nightmare; he couldn’t be falling for the blond. Ridiculous notion. Ludicrous. He was losing his mind. He had to get Malfoy out of his mind and he was obviously incapable of doing it on his own. He needed help. He needed Hermione.


***


Saturday morning Harry was standing outside the girl’s dorm waiting. He wanted to catch her first thing so they could plan on a meeting place after breakfast without anyone knowing. He was so sure the first person out would be her so when the door cracked open he grabbed the figure, pulled her close and whispered “Meet me alone after breakfast.” Imagine his surprise when he pulled back to see a very blushing Lavender Brown.

“Er- sorry. Thought you were someone else.” He mumbled lamely and stepped back, completely mortified.

“Oh?” She looked slightly disappointed. “And who did you think I was?” Then her face sprouted a wicked little smile, “Who’s in there that you want?”

Then to add to his humiliation a man’s voice sounded behind him, “Someone in there you’re pinning after, Romeo?” Dean, damn him.

“No, it’s not like that.”

“My my Harry, you blush so prettily!” Lavender giggled.

“Mate?” That would be Ron. “Trying to sneak into the girls dorms?”

“Yes,” Lavender said. “He’s desperate to talk to his love first thing in the morning and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.”

“No. Shut up.” Harry said between clenched teeth. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see the bushy head of Hermione peaking out the door. He shoved Lavender aside and grabbed her elbow, hissing into Hermione's ear as quietly as he could so as not to be over heard, “We need to talk in private. Lake. After breakfast.” Knowing she would understand the place he meant he stormed off, ignoring the look of shock on Ron’s face, and the glee on Lavenders, and headed for the showers.


***


Ron had wedged himself between Hermione and him and was shooting Harry suspicious looks all throughout breakfast. Harry almost laughed when he realized why; Ron though he was stealing her right from underneath his friend’s nose. Oh how wrong he was.

Hermione acted as if nothing had happened at all. She hadn’t even recognized that she had heard, but he was sure she did. He nibbled on his toast, making sure he positioned himself so Draco- Malfoy he corrected- was blocked from his view by Ginny. All around there were whispers where he caught his and Hermione's name but he ignored those too. He just wanted to be over this little crush on Malfoy once and for all.

He left first, mumbling something about talking to Hagrid to the rest and made his way down to the set of rocks on the north end of the lake, a private little alcove away from everything. It was peaceful and secluded, and the ambiance of the small waves lapping up the shore tended to ease his mind perfectly for clear thinking.

Hermione, after following him unknowingly one day, was the only one who knew he came here sometimes to get away. As he sat waiting for her he went over exactly what he would say. He’d start out casually, slowly leading the conversation towards the topic of crushes. Then subtly hint that he may have a slight attraction to someone and ask her how he should get over his tinny little infatuation. She would know. She would have books and books of knowledge at her disposal to help him through this little phase. All he had to do was keep the conversation subtle, he didn’t really feel ready for her to know everything about the situation just yet.

“Okay Harry, I’m here.” He jumped when she sat down suddenly next to him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Right, keep it casual and subtle. He turned to her, making sure he had her full attention and opened his mouth. “I’m gay and think I’m falling for Draco Malfoy. ”

Well. That wasn’t quite how he meant it to go. Hermione's only reaction was a slight raise of her eyebrows and that better not have been a smile she was trying to hide by tucking her lips in-between her teeth.

“And?”

“What do you mean and? Did you hear me?!”

She sighed. “Harry, I’ve had my suspicions so this doesn’t surprise me. And as your friend of course I’m going to support you. Is that why you’re worried?”

“Wait... suspicions about me being gay, or liking Malfoy?

“Both.”

“Oh God. Is it that obvious?”

“No. I don’t think anyone else has noticed.”

“Then how did you know?”

Hermione put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and he realized he was trembling. “It’s alright. I never knew for sure. But you didn’t show interest in girls like other boys our age,” she shushed his sound of protest before continuing, “yes there was Cho, but one kiss that you didn’t even enjoy isn’t much. Plus it’s the way you look at boys- well at least Malfoy.”

“And how exactly do I look at Malfoy?”

This time there was a smile on her lips but she only shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said, “it makes things easier that you know anyway. I need your help. I need... I need you to teach me a spell or help me brew a potion, something, anything to help me forget my feelings towards him,” he said, slightly ashamed of his pleading tone.

Hermione's smile disappeared and her eyebrows drew closer. “There isn’t a spell like that.”

“There are love spells aren’t there? Then there has to be anti-love spells!”

“No. There really aren’t, it doesn’t work like that. And even if there were I wouldn’t help you like that.”

Harry let out a nervous giggle. “So you’d rather I suffer? You have to help me, you’re my last hope.”

Hermione was now wringing her hands. “Crushes are hard, sometimes you get crushed by them hints the name. But Harry, you can’t just hide away your feelings. They’re a part of who you are and it’s not healthy.”

“Liking Malfoy isn’t healthy!”

“You can’t help who you like.”

“So what now, what are you saying? What should I do?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You could start by talking to him.”

What was it with girls and talking? “I watched him in the showers with my invisibility cloak. I’m obsessed. Should I talk to him about that, hmm?”

“Well. I’d start a little smaller.” She was hiding a giggle behind her hand now, but it was given away with the shake of her shoulders.

“Hermione you don’t get it, he’d laugh at me. He’d tell everyone. He’s. Not. Even. Gay.” He ground out, trying not to lose patients with his friend.

She looked at him for a moment then threw her head back and burst into laughter. She must have been thoroughly amused because for a long time she just continued to laugh and laugh, gasping for breath, holding her sides while tears streamed down her checks. After a few false starts to words that turned into giggles she finally pulled herself together. “Malfoy is as gay as they come.”

Harry gawked. “But Pansy-- and... of course he isn’t.”

“One: his nails are nicer than mine. Two: he is obsessed about his appearance, including the latest fashions.”

“Hermione...” he said in warning.

“Three,” she said softer, “he looks at you the same way you look at him.”

Harry’s heart fluttered with a smudge of hope before he squashed it down. “And how exactly is that?”

“I don’t know. A sort of longing, I think.”

If only. She just didn’t get it; Malfoy hated Harry. A longing for him to be dead, maybe. If he told Malfoy he would get rejected and that would hurt. It would hurt too much.

“Never mind. Just forget the whole thing,” he mumbled as he stood. He could hear her let out an exasperated “boys” under her breath before he felt her tight grip on his shoulder spinning him back to face her.

“You wanted my help, so here it is. Talk to him, at least try to get on closer terms with him. Bury your animosity as best you can and just get to know him. You may be reminded of how much a git he can be and lose interest, at the very least.” And with that she was off, tossing her hair over her shoulder and striding away with a purposeful this-conversation-is-over air about her.


***


That night there was something hard and square under his pillow when he went to lay down. He pulled out a brown package with a note attached that said, Can only be opened by you. Read it in private in Hermione's distinct loopy script. He made sure his curtains around his bed were pulled tight and cast a few privacy spells, having no idea what it is she had done this time.

When he pulled the paper off he was met with an animated picture of two men kissing. Porn! Sweet, innocent, bookworm Hermione had given him porn!

Only on closer inspection he saw that it was actually a book called, What Every Gay Wizard Needs to Know in Order to Please His Lover.

Harry’s face burned, porn would have been less embarrassing than this. He couldn’t look through this, it was-- it-- it wasn’t... well maybe a quick flip through since she went through the trouble and all... hmm... that certainly looked interesting...

Oh, that’s called rimming is it?

Interesting...


***


Harry ended up reading the book Hermione had so thoughtfully given him cover to cover over the next week. He would guiltily fantasize about doing more than half the stuff in the book to Draco, wondering what would please him more. He had never been so horny in his life and he ended up going through a whole bottle of lotion before surreptitiously ordering more through Hedwig.

Awkwardly enough, Hermione would meet him down by the lake every once in a while and ask him embarrassing things like if he had any questions, or if he needed anything. Sometimes she would go so far as to bring pamphlets and books, anything from gay sex to pureblood marriage rituals. (Really, she was going completely overboard. And she thought he was obsessed).

The fact that they would sneak away without telling anyone always fueled the rumors that they were together. She danced around the subject of Ron for a while, promising she wasn’t telling anyone including him but always seemed to want to say something more. Eventually Harry flat out told her he knew about them and laughed when her ears went red but asked her to still not say anything to Ron. He’d tell him eventually. He just hadn’t yet because... because he was busy.

Hermione's advice regarding Malfoy never changed and Harry eventually settled into trying to avoid and ignore him as much as he could. He told himself it was for the best and being around him only fueled his attraction to the blond. This only made Hermione seem to talk more about Malfoy, time and time again bringing up that he seemed more irritated than usual lately. Harry didn’t see how that was any of his concern.


***


“So you and Granger, huh?” Malfoy’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere and Harry leapt and bumped into Hermione, knocking the book she was reading from her hands. “Doesn’t surprise me, she’s been practically throwing herself at you since first year.”

Ron, Hermione, and Harry had been idly making their way to Charms, each caught up in their own thoughts until Malfoy had snuck up on them. Ron went gone completely ridged, his face pale and his eyes darting around the floor like he was completely stumped on what to do. Hermione just bent down to pick up her book, obviously not interested in setting anything straight and leaving it all to Harry. A serge of annoyance towards her tried to surface and he had to bite it down before facing Malfoy.

“Don’t be absurd. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This seemed to spar Ron into action who took a threatening step forward and raised his wand. “Right. You don’t know what you’re talking about so sod off, and before you do, apologize to Hermione.”

Draco gave him a disinterested look before smirking at Hermione (who was reading through this whole encounter!) and saying, “Please. You two are always sneaking off together to be alone, not to mention she’s always got her hands all over you.”

Ron went ridged again.

Harry was at a loss of what to say. He settled for, “What’s it to you, Malfoy?”

This, oddly enough got Hermione's attention and she wedged the book under her arm and grabbed both him and Ron, tugging them backward and saying overly loud so as Malfoy would hear, “Don’t let him get to you Harry, he’s just being his usual insecure self.”

“Insecure!?” Malfoy actually shrieked like a little girl and Harry had to stifle his giggle, “I have absolutely nothing to be insecure about, Granger. I’m absolutely perfect.”

Hermione started tugging Ron and Harry back farther, trying to steer them into the classroom. Just as they were entering the doorway Ron snorted and said very loudly, “Perfectly flawed is more like it, ferret. I’d die of shock one day if I learned that you aren’t half the heartless little shit I know you are.” And the three went to their seats, nothing more to be done in the sanctuary of the classroom.


***


Ron’s comment irritated Harry. Malfoy wasn’t heartless at all. Harry could see it; Draco did know how to love. Every so often he would receive care packages from home and Harry would watch as a small smile would tug at the blond’s lips. For one brief instant while his eagle owl was flying towards him with a package in tow he could see Malfoy’s defenses slipping away. In one short moment the mask would be down and there was an undeniable show of affection, of love for his mother before his face would hide his emotions once again and he’d smirk and brag and booster around his fellow Slytherins. But even that bragging was a show of affection, he was proud of his mother’s love.

Harry was jealous.

He tried to tell himself that he was just jealous that Malfoy had a mother to love, but deep inside his mind he had to berate himself for even thinking maybe it was because he could love, but could never love Harry.


***


Harry was making his way up to the common room to grab his Firebolt when a certain bushy-brown haired witch suddenly dragged him behind a suit of armor.

“Err- hi Hermione.” He said rubbing the arm she had tugged none too gently.

“Don’t you hi me, what was that earlier?”

“What was what?”

“With Malfoy! After all the help and advice I’ve given you, you go and be all
snooty with him. You could have at least tried to get along.”

Harry strove not to scowl at her. “First of all, he started it. Secondly, he was insulting you and I was sticking up for you. ”

“Oh honestly. He was being pleasant,” she made a face, “for Malfoy at least.”

“What are you on about?”

“I think he was trying. I think he’s been trying for some time now but you’re not paying attention. And did you think that maybe he was just asking if we were together? Can you think of why he might want to know?”

Harry frowned, ignoring the second half of what she said. “Trying what?”

“I don’t know, trying not to be such a prat to you for one. I know there’s been incidents where he’s even done nice things for you.”

Harry stared blankly at her for a moment before he burst out laughing. “Right. Just last night he was giving me presents and compliments while serenading me by the lake. I don’t think Malfoy knows how to be nice to me.”

“If you would just look at the clues... I’m telling you. Won’t you at least try and talk to him without bickering?”

“No Hermione. I’m starting to think you want me to end up all over the papers as the Pouf Who Lived.”

“No! But at the same time you can’t live in fear of all that, don’t give The Daily Profit that much power over what you do in life.”

“You would know,” he said heavily sarcastic, “you would know what it’s like. What, from your brief attention back during the Triwizard tournament?”

“So what if the press found out, would it really be awful for everyone to know? Are you ashamed?”

“No! That’s not it!”

“I think you are. You wont even tell Ron you’re gay.”

“It’s more than just the gay thing, Hermione, it’s Malfoy. ”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

His blood was boiling. She just didn’t get it, and he felt incredibly defensive about everything. “No YOU’RE being ridiculous. You’re advice is ridiculous. You don’t know anything about this, for once in your life you don’t know the answer to a question I’m asking and now you’re being bloody ridiculous! So just shut the fuck up!”

SMACK

She slapped him. It hurt.


***


Harry still felt a little bad for upsetting Hermione yesterday, but her advice was only making him frustrated. It irked him that she was acting like she had the simplest answers to everything and Harry was being stupid by not acting on her advice. Really it was just the advice that was stupid but she didn’t seem to be able to comprehend that. Still, he had gone completely over the top and had every intention of apologizing to her at breakfast.

Although once breakfast came things didn’t go so smoothly. Girls, it turned out, had to always be difficult. First, when he went to sit by Ron, she patted the spot next to her instead, which he took cautiously. When he tried to bring up the subject of last night’s fight she smiled at him sugary and said, “what do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry Hermione.”

She raised her brows. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re ready to take my advice?”

He hadn’t been expecting her to say that, although really he should have.

“Er- no. I-”

“Then apology not accepted.” Her voice was still sugar sweet, but it was completely cold.

“Wait, don’t,” he pleaded, “I don’t want to fight. I do appreciate you’re help,” Her eyes warmed, “but you’re wrong,” warmth gone, “I mean I don’t think it’s best for me.” Too late, she was back to full on rage and she got up, slamming her plate of eggs down and making them jump and splatter over the table, Harry, and Herself.

“If you don’t want my help, then don’t ask for it.” She stood up, shrugging off Ron’s hand on her arm and made for the exit.

“Wait,” he said chasing after her, casting a quick cleaning spell on his robes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it, Hermione.” He ignored the eyes that followed him from the different tables as he chased her out into the hall.

“Hermione, please wait.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Harry.”

“Having a lovers tiff?” A familiar voice drawled. Shit, not now.

Harry was mortified to turn around in time to see Malfoy swagger towards them, his robes bellowing out as he walked. He was definitely the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Oh for the love of-” Hermione said, “this is getting out of hand. Malfoy,” she addressed him in a firm voice and he looked at her disgustedly, a good impression of how Kreacher looks right before spewing hogwash about mudbloods addressing him.

“Leave it Hermione,” Harry tried to placate her by tugging on her arm lightly but this seemed to only anger her more and her lips pursed together so tightly they disappeared completely as she glared murder at Harry. She turned to Malfoy again.

“I’m going to tell you this because Harry has no backbone.”

Harry hissed out a, “what are you doing, shut up!” but she continued on.

“Harry fancies you.”

“ Hermione!”

“He’s obsessed with you and can’t shut up about it. To me. So I’d really appreciate it if you could help him get it out of his system one way or another.”

“Oh god,” Harry groaned wishing a meteorite would fall from the sky and kill him right there and then. How could Hermione do this to him? This was going to end up all over the papers and Harry would never be able to go out in public and face anyone ever again. He couldn’t even look at Draco, instead fixing his eyes firmly on the stone floor beneath his shoes.

“Now we’re even for the way you’ve been acting.” She said, almost gently but still with an edge before she stalked off down the hall. Harry started to go after her but Draco’s voice stopped him.

“Hold it, Potter.”

It was like being under the imperious curse and Harry’s legs seemed to be glued to the spot. He could feel the panic crawling around his insides and tried to calm himself by repeating the same assuring word in his mind, deny deny DENY.

“So, you fancy me do you?”


‘Of course not.’ That’s what he tried to say but it came out as more of a squeak, a sound between a car horn and a banshee wail. When he glanced a look at Draco it was to see one of his malicious smirkings plastered on his face.

“Well I can’t say you’re the first. Not to worry, you can join the others, Potter. You definitely wont be alone.”

Was it possible to die of embarrassment? His face certainly felt hot enough to catch fire, maybe he would spontaneously combust and burn to death. Anything would be better than this. And he certainly was going to ignore that silly little bought of jealousy of other people looking at his Draco, such an absurd thought didn’t even dignify any attention.

“I’ll tell you what,” Draco continued, taking a step closer which caused a stirring of emotions to run through Harry, “since we have so much history together I’ll help you out. I’ll give you one night to work it out of your system, as Granger so elegantly put it.”
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Nope, that wasn’t said either, that was
another one of those banshee squeaking car horn noises, maybe with a dying rodent mixed in this time.

“Meet me outside the Slytherin corridors at midnight,” Draco purred.

Was Draco proposing what Harry thought he was proposing? Nah. He’s just fucking with his mind. So really, that little hope fluttering around in his heart was completely uncalled for.

Harry should have tried to say something, or done something. The bursting into flames was still sounding pretty good, but unfortunately all he could do was watch as Draco blew him a kiss, blew him a kiss! , then walked calmly down the hallway until he turned out of sight through a corridor.


***


Harry knew it was a trick. It had to be. He’d walk down there at midnight and be greeted by the entire Slytherin house throwing their heads back and laughing, or Rita Skeeter with a whole team of paparazzi, or... Draco naked and writhing underneath him. Er-no, probably not the last one. Draco hated Harry and there were so many things he could do with this knowledge. It would ruin him.

Harry completely refused to talk to Hermione, although she wasn’t making much of an effort either. Ron ended up awkwardly trying to engage them in conversation throughout the day but gave up after dinner and settled for sulking with them in the common room. It gave Harry some time to get his thoughts organized.

Draco was being slightly more tolerable towards him and his friends. Hermione was off about him actually being nice, though, unless being nice meant sneering at Harry in the hallways slimly less than usual. Of course there was that potions incident a few weeks back, that is if Draco had really meant to fix his sleeping potion in the first place, but it did save a large portion of his grade.

The closer it got to midnight, the more Harry thought it would be okay to just go down and see for himself. Just a quick peek to see if Draco was serious or not. The only problem being that he was worried about taking his cloak or the map, afraid that if there was indeed reporters they would learn about them too, and that was not on. At the same time, he didn’t think he could get out of the common room without his cloak, so that was definitely a frustrating cycle.

At eleven forty Harry decided to stop stalling and politely excused himself from his friends. He made a show of getting ready for bed, Dean was the only one in the dorm room, and mumbling the whole while about how exhausted he was.

“But it’s Friday, no one goes to bed this early except for Neville. And not even Neville is in bed yet.”

Harry merely shrugged and waited for Dean to head back down to join the others in the common room. He slipped on his shoes, feeling kind of weird about wearing them while in pajamas, and put on his baggiest, biggest hooded school robe to hide his features as best he could. He checked the Marauder's map to make sure he could get to the Slytherin dungeons without being caught and found as long as he took the secret passage behind the gargoyles he would be fine. Draco was leaving the prefect’s bath so he figured he didn’t have much time.

Harry heard the door being opened before he could throw his invisibility cloak on and turned to find Ron giving him a peculiar look.

“Going somewhere?” Ron said.

Harry panicked. “To -- house -- broom -- head clear -- bed.”

“Mate, that wasn’t a sentence. Are you sneaking off with someone?” Ron frowned, looking pensive.

Harry squeaked and then without his permission his mouth decided to throw out, “Malfoy” before he could stop it.

Ron’s face, surprisingly, lit up. “Well okay then. I’m just gonna head down to see if Hermione has finished that essay for Charms.”

If Harry had been a fainting man, he would have passed out on the spot. The last two words out of his mouth had been ‘bed Malfoy’ and Ron hadn’t even batted an eye. With Ron halfway back down the stairs to the common room Harry regained his wits and called him back.

“Er- if anyone asks, I went to bed early, okay Ron?”

“Sure sure. Off you go then!” Ron said pushing him towards the door while draping the invisibility cloak over his body.



Part Two