And I'll Tell You No Lies (Draco), Day 3 pt 2

[annafugazzi]

Pairing(s): Harry/Draco. Also Ron/Hermione, past Harry/Ginny in the background.
Summary: It all started with a stupid interrogation. Or: Don't ask a question if you're not prepared to hear the answer.
Rating: R
Word Count: 24,127
Warning(s): Can't think of any.
Epilogue compliant? EWE, baby :)
Author's Notes: Author's Notes are different in this section, because presumably you've already gone down to the end of Day 2 ;)
Thank you so much, taradiane, for the prompt, and thanks to scrtkpr, naatz, tree00faery, authoress_girl, and schemingreader for betanesses :) :)

0000000

The memorial had devolved into small groups of people chatting amongst themselves. Harry could thank Skeeter for one thing at least: he wasn't mobbed by people who wanted to shake his hand. Though there were several who did so - some reluctantly, some eagerly and annoyingly showing their support for him despite his latest public disgrace - most people were keeping their distance. It would've been nice if he'd been more warmly greeted by some of the present members the DA, but that couldn't be helped. Zacharias Smith was cool towards him, no surprise, but so were Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Not that big a loss, though still somewhat annoying and a little bit painful.

Neville was fine, though, as were Seamus and, to a lesser extent, Dean. It was good to catch up with them for a bit, though it didn't last long enough, as Dean and Seamus went to see Dean's mother and Neville went to his grandmother. Harry looked around and spotted the Malfoys, standing and talking stiffly with Andromeda Tonks, and went over to them.

"How's Teddy?" he asked Andromeda, and was annoyed to see note her distinctly uneasy air at his approach.

"Oh, erm, he's too young to understand any of this," she said. "I'll bring him when he's a little older, and talk to him about his parents."

"Right."

"Mr. Potter, it's good to see you," said Narcissa calmly. "I never did thank you in person for what you did for my son. We very much appreciated it. I doubt he would have been accepted into the Unspeakables without your testimony at his trial."

He glanced at Malfoy, wishing he could read what he was thinking behind the tight control he seemed to keeping over himself. "You saved my life," he said to her. "And I did get your owl after the trials."

"It's not the same," she said. "Personal contact would have been more appropriate, although at the time I did not wish to impose upon you."

Harry nodded and cast about for some other topic, as silence settled among them.

"It's lovely weather for the memorial," said Andromeda, and Harry had had enough. The weather. Next they would be talking about Quidditch. Andromeda was clearly uncomfortable with him; whether that would extend past the time that it took for news of him to clear off the papers remained to be seen, but in the meantime he certainly didn't need to stay here and make everyone ill at ease. He glanced around, spotting Hermione again.

"Anyway, I just wanted to come by and ask about Teddy. Tell him I said hello."

"I will," said Andromeda.

He started to leave, then turned back. "Erm, Malfoy, could I have a word?"

Malfoy's eyebrows went up and he approached Harry, his expression guarded.

"I wanted to thank you, for not saying anything to the papers yesterday," said Harry. Malfoy blinked. "I know I already did, but... you could've said something. Your own private life might not have come out, if you had."

Malfoy made a dismissive gesture. "I doubt that would've made much of a difference. Pansy was pissed off that her own sins came up again. She just lashed out at whoever she could. Woman scorned and all that."

"She might not have, if you'd supported her instead of saying No Comment."

Malfoy shrugged. "If anything, this is probably for the best. With what the paper said this morning about you, the pressure's not exactly on me now, is it?"

He did have a point. "How is your mother taking it?"

Malfoy smiled bleakly at his mother, still making stilted small talk with Andromeda. "My mother's had to accept all sorts of difficulties in the last few years. Believe it or not, having me forced out of the closet is not the biggest problem she's had to face. It doesn't even qualify for the top ten." He shrugged. "Your own news has eclipsed mine. What else is new." He paused. "Except this time, I don't mind at all."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose not." Merlin, this was better than the last few days had been, in terms of emotional stability at least. So why did a part of Harry wish he was still under the influence of the bonding spell, so that he could maybe figure out some way to keep talking to Malfoy, maybe ask him what he thought of the simulation now that it was over, ask whether it had changed anything in how Malfoy felt about him, ask about whether Pansy had been telling the truth about...

Yeah, no. "Well. I'd better get back to Hermione," he said.

"Right. Say... hello for me."

"I will."

He approached Hermione, who smiled at him and looked over his shoulder curiously.

"What were you talking to him about?"

"I just, erm, said thanks to him for not saying anything to Skeeter."

"Ah, yes, Ron showed me the article." Hermione shook her head. "Skeeter. May she rot in hell. It's not as though she's anything better to talk about."

"Did you hear about Malfoy?" Harry said, in what he hoped was a casual way.

"Oh God yes." Hermione suddenly narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not... you don't actually have genuine feelings for him, do you? Ron told me a bit about the simulation, but he seemed rather desperate to change the subject..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why does it have to be that just because we're both gay, I would necessarily be interested in him?"

"Other than the fact that you were just forced to be in love with him a couple of days ago, and there aren't a lot of out gay men in your life, and according to Pansy Parkinson he had a thing for you for years in school?" said Hermione. "No reason at all. So are you trying to chat him up? Here?"

"No! Of course not!" said Harry, and winced. That had come out a little louder than he'd meant it to. "I mean, even if I wanted to, it's not exactly the time and place for that kind of thing, is it? I mean, what with this being the memorial and all..."

"Everyone here is trying to get on with their lives," said Hermione. "Move forward. That's what you're doing."

"Am I?"

"Yes. It's not quite where we thought you'd move, but..." she cleared her throat. "You have to admit, it certainly is moving."

"I wouldn't know where to start, though. If I was interested."

"Which you are," Hermione said crisply. "Don't waffle. Though I can't imagine why. Ron did say that he's been a different person since you all started training, but..."

"Ron said that?"

"More or less. 'Less of an annoying arrogant prat', minus some foul language. I think something Malfoy said this morning impressed him. So, you fancy him. What are you going to do about it?"

Harry found himself wondering if Hermione was ever as annoying to people who didn't know her as she was to her close friends. "How would I know?"

"Obviously first you'd need to find out how he feels," said Hermione. "Ask his friends." She paused a fraction of a second. "No, no that's a horrible idea, please don't do that." She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "Invent a reason to call him. Compliment him. That works well."

"How would you know?"

"Excuse me, I am dating Ron."

"Excuse me, before you got there you had to send a flock of tiny birds to try to peck out his eyes."

Hermione paused. "Good point." She sighed. "This is ridiculous. You have dated before; this can't be that different."

"Yeah. I dated a girl who cried on me, and I only asked her out the first time by accident. And then when we went on our first date, she thought I was dating you."

"True."

"And Ginny was Ron's little sister. I kissed her in front of God and everybody, which I'm not going to do with Draco. Malfoy." Though the idea did sound remarkably attractive. He shook himself. "And then I broke up with her and then watched her dot for months."

"Her... dot?"

"Yeah," said Harry glumly. "I was an arse about going back with her. I never even stopped to think about how I really felt about her." He sighed. "Besides, girls are different."

"Which... dot?"

"Her dot, on the map. You know, the Hogwarts map."

"Right. Of course," Hermione said, sounding very relieved and blinking rapidly.

"What did you think I meant?"

"Her, erm, freckles," said Hermione hurriedly. "Are you just interested in Malfoy because of the simulation?"

"No, actually, I've been interested a lot this year. It was just a harmless crush, though. I didn't think... I mean, I was still with Ginny and all. Officially."

"This is a new definition of 'with' somebody, what with her being here and you being in London and barely writing two letters to her all year," Hermione pointed out. "Hm. D'you know who we need to help us?" she said, and Harry reflected only Hermione could go from shock to acceptance to meddling in his private life in under two hours.

"Who?"

"Ron."

"Hahaha. I thought you were being serious. How would Ron be able to help? He's gone out with a total of two people, and frankly neither approach he took is anything I'm eager to copy."

"He's good at strategy, he could--"

"All players in the Quidditch Charity Game," a loudspeaker suddenly squawked, much to Harry's relief. "Please report to the Quidditch hut. All players in the Quidditch Charity Game, report to the Quidditch hut."

"You're in that, aren't you?" asked Hermione. "You're playing Seeker?"

"No, Chaser. We're all taking positions we don't normally play." He paused. "Actually, Malfoy's a Chaser too."

"Playing for the same team?"

Harry chuckled. "Erm, yeah."

"Well that might help," said Hermione encouragingly. "Team spirit and all that."

Harry nodded. "Couldn't hurt, anyway."

"Right. Go on, then," Hermione said, and he headed off to the Quidditch pitch.

0000000

"You may be the worst Chaser in the history of this sport, Potter," said Malfoy at the end of the day, but his tone was mostly commiserating, not snide or condescending. "Why did you agree to this game again?"

"Same reason you did. And you're not much better," Harry pointed out.

"I didn't Chase a Bludger into our own goal, Potter."

"Point."

"Yes, I could've done without that bit," said their captain.

"Sorry about that," said Harry.

"Ah well, no harm done, it was just for charity anyway. Although I would suggest that next time there's a game like this, maybe you should be a Beater. Or Keeper. Anything but a Chaser. We almost looked like the Cannons before Gupta caught the Snitch."

"You can't blame Potter for all of that, sir," said Malfoy. "Albright was too busy flipping off her broomstick to catch a single Quaffle. Besides, the other team was even worse than us."

"Yeah I thought the Monmouth Keeper was joking when he said he couldn't Seek if his life depended on it," said another player. "I don't think anybody's going to remember Potter or Malfoy today." He paused. "Not for their playing, anyway."

There a half-embarrassed snigger went around the room, and Harry found himself grinning tiredly. He lay back against the bench, relaxed and worn-out. The game had gone relatively well, all things considered. They'd won 180 to 120, and it had been mostly fun - for the players, at least.

The match had been for charity, and because people desperately needed the mindless distraction of a silly game in which none of the players was doing all that well, after the sorrow of the day. It was supposed to be a light-hearted end to a difficult day. It hadn't quite turned out that way.

Everyone had known there would be a bit of discomfort to the event; the inclusion of Malfoy and Albright had been somewhat controversial when it had been announced a month before the memorial. But they had been included as a sort of sop to those on the losing side of the war, though neither had actually been found guilty of any Death Eater-related crimes, and both had walked the party line since Voldemort's demise. Thanks to Rita Skeeter, though, they hadn't been the main controversy during the match itself. Much as Harry hated the blind adoration he got from some quarters, he knew the idea had been that there would be cheers and celebration from the stands when the The Boy Who Lived took to the air, not a confused babble. And when he was hit by a Bludger, there weren't supposed to be scattered cheers. Charlie and George Weasley weren't supposed to be hauled off the stand for belting a spectator who made the mistake of hissing "Serves the arse bandit right!" too near them when Harry was almost knocked off his broom.

Thankfully, it was done and over with, and right now Harry couldn't be arsed to care about what had happened. The aftermath of the training simulation, his involuntary outing, the memorial, and a hard-fought game, had left him with a sort of 'who the hell cares' attitude. He was tired, they'd played hard, and the team had come together in camaraderie of sorts, though who knew whether it would last past tomorrow. That was good enough for him.

Plus, it was nice to see Malfoy looking tired and flushed. He could admit that now. The man did fill out a Quidditch uniform rather nicely.

Suddenly there was a pop and a tiny female house elf appeared and squeaked with pleasure, handed Harry a warm, scented towel, and, nearly flipping herself over with delight at the sight of him, dropped the rest of her load of warm towels onto a bench and disappeared. A few seconds later Kreacher appeared, praising Harry soundly, distributing the warm towels the other elf had dropped, and handed out extra Butterbeer to every member of his team before disappearing back into the Hogwarts kitchens.

God bless house elves. They probably didn't read the Prophet or listen to the Wireless. And if they did, they didn't give a damn who a wizard wanted to shag.

"Well, I've got to get up early tomorrow," said one of Harry's teammates after he'd finished toweling his hair dry. "I'll see you at work, Malfoy. Good game, everyone."

Harry nodded, and closed his eyes as one by one their team mates and their friends left the hut. Briefly he wondered if the rest had left because they didn't want to change in front of two newly-outed shirt lifters, but found he really didn't particularly care.

He opened his eyes a slit, suddenly realizing that he and Malfoy were alone in the hut.

"So... what did you think of the game?" he found himself asking, and wondered if Hermione would be proud of him when he told her.

"Entertaining enough, I suppose," shrugged Malfoy, examining a bruise on his shin with a critical eye. "Interesting, trying out a new position."

Harry nodded. "I was thinking of practicing some more, myself."

"What for?"

"You know they were saying they might open up Ministry Quidditch again."

"They've been saying they might do that for a year, Potter," said Malfoy. "Even if they did, would you really want to join in?"

"Sure. There are a lot of empty spots to fill."

"All four teams already have Seekers. They all survived the war."

"They don't have enough Chasers."

"True."

"I was thinking we could try to get on one of the teams. We might make a good team, if we practiced together."

"You, me and Stebbins?"

Harry blinked. "Stebbins. Yeah."

Malfoy shook his head. "He wouldn't. Practice with us, I mean."

"Why not?"

Malfoy looked hesitant, then shrugged. "He's gay."

Harry gaped at him. "What? Is everybody these days?"

Malfoy sniggered. "I found out Unspeakably, and I didn't tell anybody. But he's closeted as hell, and he's not going to want to risk being seen with you and me. Not now that we're out, unwilling or not."

"Ah." Harry nodded.

"Well... maybe you. Definitely not me. Besides, he'd probably think I was trying to chat him up if I asked him."

"Why would that matter?"

"You know what my popularity is like," said Malfoy evenly.

Harry hesitated. "D'you know something? You can't hide behind that excuse forever. You can't think you know how somebody's going to react to you based on how they did before."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really. Even if you did want to chat him up, who's to say he'd say no?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I would," he said quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed as his post-game glow dimmed before Malfoy's pessimism. "Bollocks. You're a competent enough Unspeakable, you don't have a criminal record, and you're fit enough. You can't know what somebody's answer will be if you never ask the question." He rubbed a sore spot on his neck where a Bludger had caught him and wondered when he'd become such a coward that he couldn't just come out and say what he wanted to say to Malfoy directly, instead of faffing about with hints of 'somebodies' who might be interested in him.

Malfoy was silent for a few moments. "Maybe you're right," he said, and stood up. "Thanks, Potter. I'll let you know how it turns out."

Harry's brow furrowed. "How what turns out?"

"I'm going to see if I can catch Stebbins before he goes home."

"Ah. Good luck, then" said Harry, feeling as wrong-footed as he'd ever felt with Cho Chang. Malfoy gave him a small smile and headed out. Harry rubbed a spot between his eyebrows and contemplated picking up a bottle of Firewhisky or two before heading home.

No, that was silly. He wasn't devastated. Just annoyed at himself. As far as pick-up attempts went, that had to be one of his worst, in a short but glorious history of bad pick-up attempts.

Although maybe it would've been more successful if he'd actually been trying to pick up Malfoy. If he hadn't been so tired and relieved to no longer be so bloody tense around him that he'd just opened his stupid mouth and let whatever was buzzing around his head come popping out, and helpfully pushed Malfoy in the direction of the nearest available gay male who wasn't Harry.

He'd probably saved himself considerable embarrassment anyway. Malfoy had never given any non-bonding-induced indication that he was actually interested in Harry, Pansy Parkinson's pathetic diatribe aside. Better to just leave things as they were.

Suddenly the hut's door opened, and Hermione came in. "Oh good, you're still here," she said, pleased. "I was looking for you." She looked around the room. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"Home, I would imagine."

"Where's Malfoy?"

"Not home."

"Really?" said Hermione. "Do you want to see if you can ask him out?"

"Ah, no," said Harry, giving her a rueful smile. "Don't think that's going to happen."

"Why not?"

Harry chuckled. "I told him he was attractive enough to find someone, and he took me up on it."

Hermione's eyes grew round. "Really?"

"...with the other Chaser. Who is also gay."

"God, there must be something in the water," she muttered, then sighed. "All right, I should've seen that one coming." Harry scowled at her. "Well you were never particularly good at romance with girls, Harry. There's no reason you should be any better at it with boys."

She did have a point.

What the hell, stupid idea anyway, thinking of Malfoy that way. He'd dealt with his feelings towards Malfoy long enough that it was habit by now - habit made somewhat tougher by the effects of the bonding spell and the realization that his feelings weren't that different, with or without the bloody thing, but still: he was used to this. He could certainly live with the disappointment.

"Are you all right?" asked Hermione sympathetically.

"I'm fine." He stood up and stretched, feeling a burn along his triceps. Definitely time to get back on a broom again, he decided, whether he tried to join the Ministry Quidditch league or not. Not like he was going to get to 'ride' anything else any time soon.

"Are you coming back with us?" asked Hermione.

"Where?"

"The Burrow," she said. "Mr. Weasley's gone to bail out Charlie and George, and Mrs. Weasley's invited everyone over. I think Ginny's staying here, though." She paused. "With, erm, Neville."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Oh really?"

Hermione tilted her head at him. "I was wondering if that would upset you."

"Why would it? Are they actually together?"

"Not yet. He definitely wants them to be, though."

Harry smiled. "Good. He'll be good for her. Better than me, anyway."

Hermione gave him a hug. "Come on, let's go."

They left the hut and almost ran into Ron. "Oh, good, you found him," he said to Hermione, and gave Harry a small smile. "Let's go then."

They headed towards the castle, and Harry felt a twinge of envy as Ron reached out for Hermione's hand and the three of them walked together towards the special Floo the Ministry had installed for the memorial.

As they approached, Harry suddenly groaned. "Oh blast. I forgot my shin pads in the hut," he said. "I'll be right back."

"We'll see you at The Burrow, then?" asked Ron, and Harry nodded. Ron hesitated for a moment, then clapped Harry on the back. "Listen, mate, things are a little weird right now, what with... well, you know what, but... we'll get used to it. We'll just need a bit of time, right?"

Harry nodded.

"I mean, I doubt even you were all right with it right away, after you figured yourself out."

Harry chuckled. "No, I wasn't."

Ron nodded. "Wish you'd told me, mate. It might have been weird at first, but I still wish you'd told me." He took a handful of Floo powder. "I'll tell Mum you'll be along in a bit."

"Thanks." He watched Ron and Hermione flash out of sight, then wearily trudged back to the hut and opened the door, startled to note that Malfoy had come back and had changed out of his Quidditch leathers and into regular clothes.

Momentarily pitying himself for not having arrived a few minutes earlier, Harry asked "Did you not catch up with Stebbins?"

Malfoy's lips twitched briefly. "Oh, I caught up with him. Asked if he'd thought of practicing for a Chaser position, and told him you and I were thinking of doing it." A brief internal struggle to regress to age ten at the words 'doing it' possessed Harry for a moment, but Malfoy was still speaking. "He said no before I could even ask if he wanted to join us. Like he was terrified someone might see him talking to me. Don't know whether it's the Death Eater or the Gay, but whatever it was, he couldn't wait to leave."

"Bugger," said Harry. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Malfoy gathered up his things, frowning at a frayed piece of lacing on his leather elbow pad. "Wonderful. Free to be who I want to be... but nobody wants a Death Eater." He sat down and took out his wand, conjuring a repair kit, and glanced up at Harry. "Where are Granger and Weasley?"

"Gone back to The Burrow. I'm supposed to meet them there."

"Well, don't let me keep you, then," said Malfoy tightly, beginning to fuss with the lacings.

Harry picked up his shin pads and debated leaving for a brief moment. Sat down instead, and gazed at Malfoy thoughtfully. "Did you get a chance to see the new war portrait hall?" he asked.

Malfoy shook his head, concentrating on the laces. "Not that many people I'd want to see there. You?"

"Some other day. Not today." Harry watched Malfoy painstakingly unwinding the laces, and wondered how often he'd done that himself, letting the careful, precise work of maintaining sports equipment soothe him after a bad day.

They really weren't so different after all.

"Have you ever spoken to a portrait of someone you knew who died?" he asked.

"Nobody I was close to, no. You?"

"Dumbledore's. Right after the Battle."

Malfoy nodded. "Who would you want to talk to?"

"Professor Lupin. Fred Weasley. Colin Creevey." He paused. "Snape."

Malfoy nodded, briefly meeting his eyes. "Me too. Not today, but eventually. Though I can't think a lot of people will be too eager to speak to him, no matter how much of a hero he turned out to be."

Harry laughed. "No, probably not. I will talk to him though, some day. Not today. He'll probably only sneer at me anyway."

Malfoy smiled. "Probably. He wasn't your biggest fan."

"He'd probably want to talk to you."

"Maybe. I do wonder what he'd think of me joining the Unspeakables, though."

"Why did you?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I like it. I like solving problems."

"What kind of problems?"

Malfoy smirked. "I can't tell you. Or rather, I could tell you--"

"But you'd have to kill me, right." Harry rolled his eyes. "You people are so annoying when you do that. D'you know our own Trainers didn't know why your lot was doing the simulation with us? I mean, obviously you wanted to learn interrogation techniques, but you don't normally go out and investigate crimes, do you? Why do you need to know how to interrogate anybody? For that matter, why do you need a dungeon?"

"Again, I could tell you, but--"

"Yeah, got it."

"Well why did you go into the Aurors?"

Harry thought for a moment. "To be honest some days I'm not sure."

"You don't enjoy it?"

"I do, only..." Harry searched for the words. "Sometimes it seems almost too easy. Not the work itself, but the fact that I went into it."

"What?"

"I... I'm eighteen and I've been doing what I'm supposed to do my whole life. I keep thinking it's... almost like a cliché. That I'm expected to eventually end up being an Auror and a role model for little wizarding children, and marry my best mate's sister and be surrounded by children named after my parents and friends..."

"Don't you want that?"

"Not all of it, not really."

Malfoy nodded. "Well I was supposed to follow in my father's footsteps, handle the Malfoy fortune, and be part of the leadership of wizarding society, once we were rid of Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"You've still got your fortune."

"I can't exactly lead anybody, though, can I? What with not exactly having the approval of the masses."

Harry snorted cynically. "The approval of the masses doesn't mean much, I don't think. They're likely to turn on you at any moment."

"True enough." Malfoy tilted his head to the side pensively, and tested the suppleness of the laces he'd just repaired, running them through his fingers and absently tugging on them. Harry firmly told himself he was nowhere near far gone enough to envy laces. Even leather laces. Besides, Malfoy was speaking. "My mother would like it if we had that back. Hence her pushing me to sign up for this bloody charity game. But the Unspeakables... well, they're respected and feared, but not really trusted by most people. Mother thinks I should've gone into Healing, or something equally praiseworthy."

"Why didn't you?"

"It's my life, not my mother's," said Malfoy. "It's not easy to make some choices, but I've done what people around me wanted me to do for most of my life, and it hasn't helped me get anywhere. I'm trying to do what I want now." He gave Harry a crooked half-smile. "Which is why I just tried for Stebbins instead of dismissing your idea as typical Gryffindor leaping before you look."

Harry nodded, suddenly rather sheepish. Not a comfortable feeling, realizing a Slytherin was showing more courage than he was at this particular point in time.

Malfoy finally finished with the lacings, retied them onto the elbow pad, then examined the pad and put it down, taking out his wand and making his repair kit vanish. He stood up, picking up his Quidditch equipment.

"You know what I said about not knowing the answer if you don't ask the question?" Harry said slowly.

"Yes?" Malfoy looked somewhat put out, on his way to the door. "I did ask. I know the answer now."

"I'm not talking about you asking anything." Harry stood up too. "What would you say if I asked?"

"Asked what?"

"Was Pansy telling the truth? What she said about how you felt about me during school?"

Malfoy coloured up, and Harry mentally kicked himself. "Sorry, that's none of my business--"

"We were kids, Potter," Malfoy said. He hesitated, then lifted his chin, almost defiantly. "Yes, I... I was interested, but I mostly just hated you. Besides, why would you care?"

"Because I've been thinking about you for ages," Harry said, and Malfoy's mouth dropped open slightly, grey eyes widening in shock. "I thought it was just a... sort of a crush, and being interested in what you were doing because you were turning out pretty different from what you were like at school, but the simulation... well, what I felt was weird, but not as much as it should have been, you know? I sort of realized that what I felt before wasn't just - before the simulation, that is - it wasn't just a crush." And he should probably really stop any moment now, because now he was babbling, and Malfoy hadn't expressed any current interest in him, after all.

"You did get the spell taken off, right?" Malfoy said slowly.

"Yes. You?"

Malfoy nodded, and Harry didn't have a clue as to what he was thinking or what emotions were playing out behind his eyes. He tried to comfort himself that rejection wasn't one of them. Not right away, anyway.

"Did you feel any different after it was gone?" Harry asked. Malfoy's mouth opened, then closed, and Harry made himself push on, his pulse racing. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, and Go Go Gryffindor. "I didn't. Not really. I mean, the intensity and all, the - some of the stuff that I knew was artificial, that was gone. But not... not being interested. That felt the same." Malfoy hadn't broken eye contact. "What would you say?" Harry repeated again. "If I asked?"

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and blushed darkly, and Harry was suddenly tired of being cautious. What the hell, you only live once, he thought, and at least this time there weren't fifty people standing around watching - and he reached out and kissed him.

Malfoy pulled back, his eyes wide. Harry started to back up too - fuck, he'd gone too far--

"No, sorry, just - startled, that's all," Malfoy said, and dropped his bag of equipment. He pulled Harry close and kissed him back passionately, finally breaking for air to gasp, "I'd say yes, are you joking?"

Harry laughed and pulled Malfoy back into his arms and then he was lost. The part of him that could make sense of anything at all had the fleeting thought that the difference between this and what he'd had with Ginny was like the difference between riding a bicycle and flying - the exhilaration of having a man's body at his fingertips, all firm planes and the scent of Quidditch leather and wind and maleness, the hands running over his body sure and firm and strong, a rough tongue caressing his. He ran lips down Malfoy's neck, feeling him moan, hands wandering down his back to his arse, pulling them closer until he could feel Malfoy's hardness against his own.

"Fuck," he murmured, "fuck that's good. Oh fuck..." and his knees were growing weak and his heart was racing, and in the midst of the wash of sensations, the exhilaration of taste and scent and heat, the vague thought crossed his mind that he didn't want to waste any mental energy trying to keep his balance. He spotted the wall and pushed Malfoy towards it, and Malfoy laughed, a free, rich sound, as his back hit it and Harry braced a hand on either side of him. Malfoy dropped his head back, pulling Harry closer, and rocked up against him

"Fuck!"

Malfoy laughed again, and Harry vaguely remembered that they were in a nominally public place and anybody could come in at any moment, but it was a little difficult to hold on to that thought as he nipped the side of Malfoy's neck, where his pale hair curled a bit with dampness, either from the game or from what they were doing right now.

"Don't - oh don't stop," Malfoy moaned, shivering as Harry tasted the side of his neck. He tilted his head to the side, his fingers running through the strands of Harry's hair before urging him to press harder with his mouth, and the whimper that moved through him that was the sexiest thing Harry had ever heard.

Future note: Malfoy really, really liked having his neck bitten. Harry would really need to remember that, assuming he didn't die of pleasure right now from the way Malfoy was groaning and cradling the back of Harry's neck, unselfconsciously gasping in delight as Harry's tongue and lips and teeth roamed over his throat, and pressing himself more and more urgently against Harry, and oh--

He should've known that Malfoy would be like this. Taking, pushing, feeling everywhere, his hands now running over Harry's body quickly, demandingly. He'd been brought up to take whatever he wanted, and it was a bloody dream come true, to be what Malfoy wanted this fiercely.

And it felt like he'd wanted this forever. Like he'd wanted Malfoy forever.

They were both going to come, Harry realized, and really couldn't spare a thought as to why that might not be such a good idea. Everything had narrowed to Malfoy, the pulse at the base of his throat, his movements against Harry's body. The hand that suddenly moved to the front of Harry's trousers and cupped him through his pants, and if Harry had thought the sensation of grinding against Malfoy's length was amazing, it was nothing compared to the friction and purpose of Malfoy's hand on him, firm strokes that were going to - and he could do the same, he realized, and moved his own hand to Malfoy's cock. He glanced down briefly, swiftly unbuttoning Malfoy's trousers and slipping a hand inside, Malfoy's shocked intake of breath echoed by his own. Malfoy's cock was hard, and velvety warm against his palm, and Malfoy's hips jerked with each stroke, and suddenly somehow Malfoy's hand was curling around Harry's cock too, and Harry didn't even know how that had happened.

They were crying out with pleasure now, stroking each other firmly, bringing each other closer to completion, Malfoy's breath against Harry's lips as they gasped together, and as Malfoy's eyes squeezed shut, lights burst through Harry's consciousness and everything but the white heat of his climax tearing through him was obliterated in a shout.

Oh, fuck.

They were still, panting. Harry's limbs felt like lead and his entire body was awash in the shock of what had just happened, heart still racing.

Merlin, he could sleep for a year after this. If he didn't fall on his arse first.

Malfoy took a deep, shuddering breath, and his fingers worked their way into Harry's hair again. Harry braced himself against the wall with his elbow, drawing away from Malfoy enough to meet his gaze.

There was laughter, and happiness, and a kind of dazed wonder in Malfoy's grey eyes. Malfoy smiled at him and rested back against the wall, and Harry chuckled.

"What?" asked Malfoy.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Harry said, his voice sounding happier than he'd felt in years.

"Merlin yeah," Malfoy said, then closed his eyes and groaned. "Only problem is I'm going to fall on my arse if I don't sit down."

Harry laughed. "D'you want to sit, then?"

"In a moment." He pulled Harry close again, then frowned slightly and looked down. "Erm."

Harry looked down too and sniggered. "Bit of a mess," he remarked, taking his wand and murmuring a cleaning spell over himself.

"Mmm, I'll clean up later," said Malfoy, his voice drowsy. "My wand's with my Quidditch things."

"Here, take mine." Harry handed Malfoy his wand, marveling at how natural it felt to do so, just as it had during their simulated 'crime'. His wand seemed to respond well to Malfoy, too, in much the same way as Malfoy's wand had felt friendly, somehow, in Harry's hands when he'd taken it from Malfoy over a year ago.

Their wands felt friendly in each other's hands. Off the top of his head he could think of about a dozen dirty jokes that could be made from that.

Malfoy gave Harry back his wand and they rested together comfortably against the wall, and God, this was amazing. Though really, it would probably be a good idea to draw apart before someone came in. Too bad nuzzling Malfoy's neck and just hoping for no interruptions for the next few hours felt like a much better plan.

"Mm, you didn't answer," he murmured against Malfoy's neck. Malfoy made a soft noise of inquiry. "About whether it felt different after the spell was off."

Malfoy was silent for a few moments. "It didn't. But not because of what you think." He pulled away slightly. "I wasn't really under the bond spell."

"What?" Harry drew back, puzzled.

"They cast it on me, but I counteracted it." Harry gaped at him. "I wasn't really under its effects. It... heightened some things. But I was in control of it, mostly."

"How? Is that also some Unspeakable thing?"

Malfoy regarded him seriously. "It's a... survival thing. From having lived with Death Eaters in my home, and learned how to not allow anyone to influence me."

"Nobody knew you were counteracting it?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "I will share what I did with the Unspeakables, eventually, only--"

"So... how you were acting towards me..."

"That was real," said Malfoy. "Mostly."

"But... why?" Harry knew from the moment the words were spoken that it was the wrong thing to say. "Never mind," he said quickly. Regardless of what they'd just done together, questions like that were a little too intimate for right now, and Harry didn't even need to access his inner Hermione to figure that out.

Suddenly he tensed, hearing murmurs outside the hut at the same time as Malfoy did, including one voice that sounded rather familiar.

Malfoy closed his eyes in dismay. "Bollocks. Skeeter. And she's..." Malfoy fumbled for his wand and muttered a spell, then groaned. "She's camped out right outside the hut. Along with a bunch of other reporters. They heard you came back to the hut, and they're going to try to interview you the moment you step out."

Harry scowled. "How did you - yeah, never mind, you could tell me, but. Are you sure they saw me? Did they see you?"

"They suspect I may be in here, but nobody saw me come back."

Harry glanced over Malfoy, taking in the rumpled clothing, the dishevelment, the air of being rather well-fucked. They could smooth out their hair - well, Malfoy could, anyway, Harry's hair was pretty much a lost cause on the best of days - and do up their trousers and remove certain stains, but their blushes were inerasable and in any case they had both just been outed today, so nobody was going to miss the obvious media-worthiness of them having spent over half an hour in a small Quidditch equipment shed... and there was no Apparition on Hogwarts grounds...

Fuck.

Suddenly he smiled. "Let's go, then." He straightened up.

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "What?! If we go out there now, they'll see us."

"I know. Who cares?"

Malfoy's eyebrows climbed even higher. "Excuse me?"

"So they'll see us. And they'll come to the obvious conclusion. And they'll talk about us."

"Yes..."

"And we're not doing anything wrong." He tucked himself in and buttoned up.

"They'll think we are," said Malfoy, following suit.

"Who cares?"

"Are you insane?"

"No. I'm just tired of caring what other people say or think."

Malfoy stared at him. "So am I, but..."

"So. D'you want to? Give them something to talk about?"

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, then suddenly gave him a grin. "Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

They smiled at each other, and opened the door.





Day 1
Day 2
Day 3 part 1

Comments

[prilimpimpim.livejournal.com]

It's the end? Oh, I wish I'd see them being interviewed and what they would say!
Haven't read anything of yours in a long time! But reading this one made up for the lost time, certainly. Good work, as always!
Thank you for posting it!

[annafugazzi.livejournal.com]

LOL yeah, that's the end. Tbh I thought of writing the interview, but came up positively blank, other than thinking up a whole lot of single-entendres from the press corps;)

So glad you liked it!

[vanseedee.livejournal.com]

I liked this one, too. The way you show that there is common ground is very believable. The interaction between them is great, and I especially loved the interaction between Draco and Ron. That was unexpected and made it very well rounded. I enjoy your world-building, too, and would like to know more about the Unspeakables. Alas, I'm not prepared to be killed...

Love the concept. What a great idea.

[annafugazzi.livejournal.com]

Yay!

The interaction between them is great, and I especially loved the interaction between Draco and Ron.
Heh... glad you thought so; I know a lot of Harry/Ron folks hate Draco with a passion, and vice-versa, so I'm betting there were probably some :/ faces at those bits :D :D :D

Love the concept. What a great idea.
Thanks!

[sara51.livejournal.com]

Choose your own adventure! Love it.

[annafugazzi.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Must admit, halfway through the writing I was no longer so sure, but it seems to have worked out OK :D ;D

[gretagarbled.livejournal.com]

"I... I'm eighteen and I've been doing what I'm supposed to do my whole life. I keep thinking it's... almost like a cliché. That I'm expected to eventually end up being an Auror and a role model for little wizarding children, and marry my best mate's sister and be surrounded by children named after my parents and friends..."

This little pot-shot against the epilogue is amaaaazing. Because it's true :P as is 'their wands felt friendly in each other's hands' - GENIUS. On reading this, I'm now wondering how I managed to miss this; I may have bookmarked it, then forgot to check my favourites bar :/

but oh, I love this! It just works so well and I love Hermione, as always. I also really enjoyed Ron's reaction; I think that the fact that he wishes Harry had told him earlier is lovely. I don't like it when Ron is made out to be a complete and utter homophobe; he's not stupid, he plays chess!

(and well done on the ron version as well btw; I love the choose your own ending link at the beginning of day 1!)

I think I've fulfilled my fangirling quota for today *blushes* thank you for this :D

[annafugazzi.livejournal.com]

This little pot-shot against the epilogue is amaaaazing.
Hee - the funny thing is, I actually like the epilogue, from a strictly "this was written for kids, who would probably appreciate knowing that all was well and everyone got their happily ever after."

As an adult? I seriously contemplated buying myself an extra copy of DH and neatly removing the epilogue, which (in the Canadian edition at least) almost seemed designed to be taken off with no damage to the book itself, as it was printed starting on a brand new page and not on the back of the last page of the story itself.

but oh, I love this! It just works so well and I love Hermione, as always.
Thanks!

I also really enjoyed Ron's reaction; I think that the fact that he wishes Harry had told him earlier is lovely. I don't like it when Ron is made out to be a complete and utter homophobe; he's not stupid, he plays chess!
Yeah I have a major problem with Ron-bashing too. There have been so many otherwise wonderful H/D stories that were totally ruined for me by Ron- or Ginny-bashing. I can totally understand writing them not terribly sympathetic; they do have their flaws, and even the nicest people can be total ****s sometimes. But making them out to be all sorts of things that, by canon, they are not, just because you don't like them... sloppy writing, IMHO.

I'm so glad you liked this story. Thanks so much for your review!

[scififreak.livejournal.com]

I totally came into this fic wanting to read some Ron/Harry, but I got totally caught up in the awesomeness of the Draco/Harry story. I'm not opposed to Draco/Harry by any means (not like I am with Snarry), but I wasn't looking for it in this fic. I'm so glad you did the "Choose Your Own Adventure" take on this. Now I'm going to go back and "choose" the other adventure. =)