The Bet

~~~~~

Chapter XVII - Coming Out of the Broom Cupboard

~~~~~

Draco strode through the library, his step purposeful and his head held high. He approached a table at the very back; it was not his usual, but one occupied by the only person he was intent upon seeing that day: Raven.

He stopped just to the side of her and held out a small black book, unmarked but for the gold trimmings on the corners. "Here you go." His tone was light but clipped, and he stood there with just the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

Raven's dark curtain of hair had covered her face while she worked on some essay, but when she looked up, Draco had never thought the colour green could turn someone to ice. Because that's how he felt, standing there in the Library: frozen, his arm held out and the hint of a smile cold on his lips. Oh good Lord...I'm done for.

She eyed the book with such disinterest it was as if she were looking through the book and his hand to the floor; old wood that had age-old dust in the crevices. Yes, nothing but a scuff on the floor. She then ignored him and went back to what she was doing.

Draco felt himself unfreeze, but was still stiff and sore from the glare Raven had administered on his body and heart. Slowly, he moved around her and sat down on her other side. Placing the book on the table and pushing it towards her, he took a deep breath and said, "Raven, I know you're mad at me. And I want to...to apologise. I had no right to yell at you." There. That was good, wasn't it?

But Raven only glared at him again, with the same intensity as before. "You can take your journal and your body, and leave my general vicinity. Now."

Merlin, her voice cut like ice too.

"Raven, please. You know I'm not one to beg. Please listen to what I have to say."

"No. And if you won't leave, then I will." She moved to put her things away.

But Draco grabbed her arm. "No! Please, Raven. Love. Please." He stared as bravely as he could into her uncut emerald eyes. "I...I heard Harry told you what happened. I wrote it down for you. I knew you'd want to know. So take the journal. It's for you."

"Well, like you said, Draco, Harry's already told me. So I really don't need the journal." She wrenched her arm out of his grip, and made to stand up again.

But Draco got up quickly and moved in front of her. "Yes, but he didn't tell you everything, now did he? You always wanted details...and I wrote them down for you." He hated that he sounded so needy and begging, but he couldn't help it. He had to get Raven to listen to him. He had to make things right.

Raven stopped what she was doing before fixing him with a hard look. "Did it ever occur to you, Draco, that I maybe don't want any details? If I did, I surely would have asked you for the journal, now wouldn't I have?"

Draco gulped. This was not going right. Not at all. "Okay..." he started, then tried, "Will you at least listen to me? Let me apologise. I owe you an explanation."

Raven sat back down. "You have one minute."

Draco dropped to one knee, and took a hold of one of Raven's hands. It was limp in his. He looked down at the pale skin of her hand, watching his thumb rub little circles upon it. "Raven, I'm sorry I doubted you. I honestly didn't realise that Harry was...ready. I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I'm really sorry about that. I love you. I don't even care about the bet anymore. I love you, and I like--love--care about Harry..." he trailed off in a quiet voice, before finally looking up into her eyes. They were still rather cold looking. "But I don't want to hurt either of you. So I'm sorry if I did."

Raven sat there for a minute, before extracting her hand and standing back up. She took the journal from the table and tucked it away in her bag. "I'll think about accepting your apology." And with nothing more, she moved past him and out of the building.

Draco looked after her and sighed, still kneeling on the floor. He put his hands on the chair in front of him and rested his forehead on top of them. Did that go well? He wasn't sure. But she had listened to him, and she had taken the journal with her...and she said she'd think about it...so maybe things were looking up?

Draco prayed to Merlin that that was so.

She was just so confusing. She, though being more open to showing emotion than Draco, was still hard to read. Well, if you counted a glare that could freeze one's soul hard to read. But she was nowhere near as expressive as Harry. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, just like his heart. Raven was much more adept to hiding things. She had been a Death Eater spy in the war, after all.

"Malfoy? What are you doing on the floor?"

Draco looked up to see Granger standing only a few feet away, a puzzled look on her face.

"Oh wonderful, it's my resident Gryffindor psychiatrist, back for another session. What do you want, Granger?" Draco sniped, putting his head back on his hands.

Hermione sniffed. "I just wanted to know if everything's alright. Harry's told us..."

Draco's head shot up. "What? What did he tell you?" Draco then realised that he was below eye-level of Hermione, and was indeed trying to demand information from her from an undignified position on the floor. He sprang immediately to his feet.

Hermione jumped back slightly at his sudden change of height and said in soft tones, "About what's been going on between you two the past few days. And Raven. He told us that you told him to go out with Mikhail."

Draco seemed to relax marginally and leaned against the edge of the table. "Yes, I told him to do that." He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor.

"Hmm. Well, I hope things work out between you and Raven."

"Why?" Draco looked up into Hermione's warm brown eyes. "Why do you care?"

"Because Harry would feel more miserable than he already does about breaking up your relationship. Goodbye, Draco." Then she spun on her heel and left.

Draco watched after her for a moment before sighing and bowing his head. Harry didn't need to feel guilty about him and Raven. It wasn't his fault. He needed to go...be happy with someone else. For a while.

Draco knew the absolute absurdity and contradiction of his recent actions and words towards Harry. He had meant what he said; his offer to be whatever Harry needed still stood, but right now, Draco felt that he couldn't give Harry the attention that he needed. Barely enough for a friend, and not nearly enough as a lover. Especially with all the big changes in Harry's life in the past few days; like realising that he was attracted to men. Draco wanted to be there for Harry, but was afraid that his feelings for the man would only muck things up. He couldn't be a friend and help Harry through anything he needed to go through if Draco was still trying to get into his pants...that was one of the problems to boot as it were. His relationship with Raven was still working itself out, and Draco didn't want to put that pressure on Harry when he was obviously sorting his own feelings out for the both of them. Draco only hoped that Mikhail could fill that role, if only for a short while. Having another relationship, or any at all for that matter, would be good for Harry, Draco was sure of it.

~~~

As Harry flew warm-up laps around the pitch, he thought back to the night before, and his confession of liking men just before dessert. Seamus had called it, 'coming out of the closet'; a phrase Harry had heard before, but never really gave much attention to. That was, until he himself was 'coming out of the closet'.

The initial reaction was stunned silence, while Ron put a protective hand on his shoulder from where he was standing behind Harry, and Hermione placed a comforting and supporting hand in Harry's beneath the table.

Then Luna, in her usual carefree manner said, "I was wondering why you were spending so much time with Draco Malfoy recently."

There was a collective gasp around the table, and then the other boys immediately started denying it for Harry, while Luna just sat oblivious next to Neville, scooping vanilla ice cream onto the plate that held her slice of chocolate cake, and Ron and Hermione bit their lips and Harry blushed like mad.

Then Seamus finally quieted everyone down and asked the silent Harry, "So, mate...that's not...true, is it? I mean...Harrell and Malfoy, I thought they were together..."

Harry had bit his lip and felt Ron squeeze his shoulder. "No, that's not why I've been spending a lot of time around Draco," he half-lied. "This is a new thing...and I...well...I was thinking of asking someone out, and I wanted you guys to know, so er...questions don't come up later."

Seamus grinned. "Who's the lucky bloke, Harry?"

Harry finally looked up from his untouched cake, taking in the gazes of the people around him. Luna wasn't looking at him at all, just eating her cake and ice cream merrily; Neville, looked as if he was unsure how to react still; Kevin Whitby and Dennis looked just plain shocked; Owen was at work, and thus, not there to react; Seamus was, of course, grinning wickedly; and Ginny had looked shocked at the initial revelation, but now only looked slightly worried, obviously trying to be supportive, but not knowing how.

Blushing, Harry glanced away before saying quickly and quietly, "You'll see."

"But what if he says no?"

Harry shrugged. "Then he does. But I'm sure you'll hear who it is, regardless."

"Aye, and I'll bugger you like mad when I do."

At the halted silence that followed, Seamus quickly realised just what it was he said. "Oh. I mean...not that. Merlin, people, get your minds out of the gutter! I just meant that I'd bother him, that's all."

Neville had chuckled slightly, draping an arm across the back of Luna's chair. "Uh huh. Sure."

"Bugger off, Neville."

"Care to join me?" Neville joked back.

That released the tension in the room, and everyone laughed, diving into their dessert.

Now that Harry thought back on it, it had gone rather well. He had asked that everyone keep it to themselves for the time being, though they could tell Owen when he got home. He knew that it would come out...but he didn't want it to before he had a chance to talk to Mikhail, which he hadn't yet...

When he had gotten to practice, Mikhail was already there, talking with Meghan. As soon as he'd been in his gear, ready to go, the rest of the team was ready too, and immediately, Mikhail made them take to the skies, straight into their warm-up routine. It was like any normal practice...except that Mikhail seemed to be avoiding him just in the slightest, and Draco was just as distant as he had been a month ago, if not glaringly so. Harry and Ron shared slightly troubled looks, but continued on with everything like normal. It was all Harry could do, really.

As Harry and Draco searched for the Snitch in the last scrimmage, Harry sidled over to Draco and asked in a nonchalant way, "So...how are things with Raven?"

Draco cast a steely grey glance in his direction before replying, "I'm not sure yet."

"She still not talking to you?"

"It hasn't been very long. I'm still working on it."

"Oh."

"Look, Harry. I'm sure you'll know all about what happens from Raven or something. Could we please not talk about it?"

Harry looked away, feeling chastised. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's fine. I just...things will be fine. It'll just take a while. I...I didn't think she'd be this mad over what I said."

"She hasn't said anything to me about why she's so angry. Sorry I can't help."

Draco sighed. "It's not your problem, Harry. You may be the subject, but not the cause. At least, not directly. Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out."

Harry could only nod, as just after, Draco zoomed off in sight of the Snitch.

Harry followed after a beat, feeling rather morose and not caring entirely much if he caught the Snitch. Not to say he didn't try, but as Draco's pale fingers clutched the little golden ball, Harry immediately slowed and circled down to the pitch, happy that Draco had caught the Snitch again, as it would surely lead to his secured position for the next game, but his thoughts really strayed elsewhere, including his relationship with the two ex-Slytherin's that he had grown accustomed to having around him. And the dark-haired man who was touching down from across the field.

"Great work, Malfoy," Mikhail said to the blond landing beside him. "And good practice, everyone. I'll see you all tomorrow." Everyone turned to head to the locker rooms, but Harry stalled, trying to catch Mikhail's eye as he finished talking with Meghan. As Meghan walked away, Mikhail looked up. "Can I help you with something, Harry?"

Harry nodded, swallowing and stepping forward, stopping only a foot away from Mikhail. He wasn't sure how to start this particular conversation, so he started with: "Do you think Draco will be good enough for the next game?"

Mikhail raised an eyebrow but replied, "Yes. I think so. Is that all?" To Harry, it sounded like Mikhail already knew that Harry wanted to talk about something other than Draco Malfoy.

"Er..." Harry stalled again.

Mikhail bit his lip and said, "Harry, I didn't tell anyone about Friday night. I'm really sorry I even tried-"

"Will you go out with me?"

"-such a... What?" Mikhail's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

Harry swallowed and took a deep breath, looking up a few inches to Mikhail's deep brown eyes. "I said would you go out with me?"

"You-you're serious?"

"Yes."

"But I thought..."

"That I wasn't gay?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm entirely gay...I still like girls, just none have caught my eye." Except for one... Harry's mind supplied, but he swiftly told it to shut up.

"So you're bi, then?"

"Yeah, I think so." Harry's brow wrinkled.

Mikhail nodded, shifting his gaze for a second before landing back on Harry's. "You really want to go out with me?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I...I've never really been with a guy though..."

Mikhail smiled. "I'm pretty sure that was obvious on Friday." Harry ducked his head in embarrassment, but Mikhail lifted up his chin with a gloved finger. "So, if I'm to go out with you, does that mean I get to kiss you again? And you won't run away this time?"

Harry blushed and chuckled. "No. I mean yes. I mean, no, I won't run away, and yes, you can kiss me again."

A brilliant smile spread on Mikhail's face, and his eyes darted around for a second to make sure that everyone was either gone or in the locker rooms, before tilting his face down to meet Harry's.

What he didn't see with his cursory glance was Draco standing just inside the copse of trees that surrounded the pitch, watching the scene with dull grey eyes.

~~~

The kiss was short but very sweet, and it had Harry's heart lifting in a curious way as he took the leaf-strewn path home. He didn't bother take a shower in the locker rooms; feeling a little embarrassed that he might see his new boyfriend in the nude and... Harry had had to cut of his train of thought before he got carried away. So all he did was grab his clothes from his locker, and hurry back down the short trail through the woods to the main part of campus.

It was strange, he thought, that as many times as he might have seen some of his male team mates in the nude, that he never really looked at them, and now that he was going to be dating one of them, it felt awkward to bathe around them. Especially Mikhail. Harry flushed a brilliant red to match the trimming on his black Sirens' Quidditch robes at the images that tried to permeate his brain again.

God, its no wonder I like boys...

Then Harry thought of Draco.

He still liked Draco, oh yes, and was still highly attracted to him without a doubt. But his first real relationship...well...it was a new enough experience without the whole 'gay' thing coming into play. Exciting, and just a little bit scary, too.

But, oh gods...Draco...Harry shivered pleasantly at the memory of that pale and lithe body beneath his, touching him everywhere, of the pressure of Draco's soft lips on his mouth and throat, of the feel of Draco's cock in his mouth... Harry had to stop for a minute and compose himself before moving onward. He had to focus on Draco's current git-ness, not his overwhelming sex appeal that would drive just about anyone insane. This is, if they could get past the cold and ruthless façade that the fair man wore much too often around far too many people.

But, Harry mused, that was just the way Draco was. He probably would never be completely open or un-bastardly around anyone he didn't give a rat's ass about. Harry had learned to accept Draco's cool demeanour and rather callous ways. It was some of his charm, in an unconventional way.

Harry sighed as he entered his dorm, resolving himself again that dating Mikhail was just fine, and that really, it was what Draco wanted him to do. That niggling voice that tried to remind Harry that he wasn't sure if it was something he wanted to do was quickly overridden by the smile that graced Harry's lips as he remembered the sweet kisses he and Mikhail had already shared.

Yes, dating Mikhail would be a good thing.

It had to be.

~~~

After his rather long shower that night, in which he was pretty sure he used all of the hot water, Draco found himself trying to reorganise his desk in an effort to keep his mind off of 'other things'. The cool winds from outside crept into through the cracks in the window, causing goose bumps to rise on his bare torso. He couldn't think of the charm off-hand that would seal the window more properly against the elements, and decided to find it as soon as his task was finished. He moved some leaflets aside and came across his personal journal, which was even more buried than it had been the previous morning, after he had hastily hid it from Harry.

He glanced at his unfinished entry, wondering what he would have said if had finished his thoughts. Whatever he had been thinking seemed so far away, like a different place and time, yet a place and time not so long ago when Draco truly realised just how convoluted things had gotten.

He flipped back to the beginning of the journal, settling back in his chair as he read each entry, wondering when things had changed. Oh, he knew they had, but not when.

Draco stared incredulously at his own denial. It had been there since the beginning; since day one. Ingrained so deeply that he did not even know it for what it truly was. Draco did not kid himself into believing that the denial was about his feelings for Harry at first; no, then it had simply been his denial at wanting to move on, of wanting to finally get past his animosity for Potter, to rid himself of any possible misgivings. He had done some petty and horrible things to Harry and his friends in years past, and not all of it could be brushed away with the excuse of adolescence. So, first he had to convince himself that he really did want to move on, and then he had to convince himself that what feelings he'd been developing for Harry weren't just because he had to swallow his pride and get to know him that way; but that he really did start to like Harry. More than he thought he would. And also, much quicker than he had ever expected out of this thing in his life...he had fallen in love.

But loving Harry came at a high price, higher than he would have thought, and it was almost too painful, and most certainly too confusing. How on earth did he allow himself to fall in love with two people? His father was probably turning over in his shallow gave, and his mother was probably crying sighs in her mausoleum.

Draco hated not knowing what to do, but not only had he never been in this kind of situation before, but he never anticipated it either; never even dreamed of it. So unfathomable had it been before it had happened to him that it stung to realise that he really had no one to talk to about this sort of thing. He only ever talked to Raven, and that was out. Or Blaise. Draco snorted. Blaise. That man would never understand; he was too fickle and too horny to have fallen in love with anyone, let alone two people.

And as if the follies of love weren't enough for the tormented Malfoy, life's little ironies decided to step in too; quite literally, in fact, as there was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal the head of Blaise; British-Italian Playboy Extraordinaire.

"Draco? Can I come in?"

Draco turned towards the door, standing up and slipping the journal into his desk drawer. "Yeah, come in."

Blaise continued into the room, closing the door behind him and turning to Draco, who had been behind the door at his desk. "Hey."

Draco lifted a dusty brow. "'Hey'? When have you ever been so inarticulate?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "And when have you been one to mope around?"

Draco turned away, picking up his strewn Quidditch gear and putting it in its proper place or throwing it in the hamper. "I'm not moping. I don't mope. Moping is for those who feel that they have no way out of their current situation, and since I know that there is a way out of everything, I am not moping."

Draco felt Blaise come up behind him, his back twitching as a cool hand touched his warmer shoulder, the rest of his body still as marble.

"Draco," Blaise said softly, "I may seem oblivious most of the time, but I've never seen Raven look at you like she did today. For Merlinsakes, she didn't even sit with us during classes! I'm not the only one who noticed that." He came around and looked Draco straight in the eye. "Don't bullshit me, Drake. What happened? I know it must have something to do with Potter; I am quite aware that he never left Saturday night. Did you...?" Blaise trailed off, his gaze neither incriminating nor repulsed, only resolute and worried.

"Fuck?" the blonde replied bluntly. "No." And Draco turned away again, going to his dresser and taking out a plain black tee shirt and pulling it over his head.

Blaise frowned. "Thanks for the visual, Drake."

"Glad to be of service." His tone did not stimulate further conversation.

"Don't be a bastard, Draco. You and Raven are my best friends. Sure, you've had spats, but never like this. I can't help unless I know what's going on."

Calmly, Draco replied, "What, exactly, do you want to know?" He picked up his comb and ran it through his white-blond hair.

"Well...why is Raven mad at you, for one."

"I snapped at her."

"You snapped at her," Blaise repeated.

"Yes."

"And that made her royally pissed off at you? C'mon Draco, I've never seen her like this before...and I've been friends with her longer than you. Do you really expect me to believe that she's that mad at you because you snapped at her?"

"I suppose so."

Blaise sighed in exasperation.

"What?" Draco spat, turning around. "What would you like to know? That Raven bet me I couldn't seduce Potter? That she has designs to have both of us? At the same time? That Potter sucked me off Saturday night and I fucking-well enjoyed it? That instead of seducing Potter, I fell in love with him?" His words were rising in intensity, and Blaise just stood there, dumbfounded. "Is that what you wanted to know, Blaise? Because that's what happened. That's what's been going on. And somehow, I managed to cock-up my relationships with both Harry and Raven in less than twenty-four hours. And fuck-all if I know what to do about it," he finished.

Despite all Blaise had seen in his young years, nothing could have prepared him for what he had heard from Draco's mouth. The images Draco's blunt wording provided were more graphic than Blaise would have ever wished to think about in regards to Harry Potter.

"I...I don't know what to say..." he stuttered faintly.

Draco sat down on his bed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to say anything. I got myself in this mess, and I'll get myself out of it."

Blaise watched Draco for a moment before sitting down beside him.

"You must have a lot of questions," Draco said eventually.

Blaise swallowed. "Yeah...I suppose I do. Will you bother to answer them?"

"You'll pester me until I do. But," Draco said a bit louder and with a bit more force, "you can't tell anyone else. I want as few people to know what I'm about to tell you as possible. I only have to answer to Raven, Harry, and myself."

"Understood." Blaise took a deep breath, and ploughed in. "I'm not going to bother asking about Raven's designs towards you and Potter--I know how her mind works; she was intrigued by you for a while before she made any moves in your direction; before she fell utterly in love with you--so I can probably guess how her fascination with Potter came about. But what I will ask you, is how on earth did you let her talk you into seducing him?"

"Blaise, don't get huffy with me," Draco said darkly. "Or this little 'confession' is over right now."

"But will you answer the question?"

Levelling a warning glare at his friend, Draco replied, "All I can really say in my defence is that that woman knows me too well, and played on my weaknesses."

"And what weakness is that?"

"She challenged me. She challenged my ability to seduce, basically, and used that and my libido to coerce me into thinking that all I had to do was...get Potter, and she'd be mine."

"'Get Potter' how? I mean--what were you supposed to do with him?"

"What do you think, Blaise? Have a tea party? I was supposed to seduce him, take him to bed, mess with him a bit, and then drop him."

"Even you're not that low."

"Yeah, well apparently I'm that stupid. I only realised later what Raven really wanted out the whole situation."

"And what was that?"

"That not only does she want both of us in a sexual way, but she wanted to drag him out of his shell, which was not entirely a bad idea, of course, but she wanted us to get together sexually, and the only way to do that was to get us talking first. So, I took her advice, which she had been giving me for months I now realise, and talked to Potter. And eventually, I found him attractive, and then we were friends. And now I love him." Here, Draco paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "She wanted me to love him. But I don't really understand why. Does she really think a three-way relationship is going to work?" he mused more to himself. "I know she cares about him, loves him even, but honestly, Raven and I are together now...I was thinking of marriage...how does she expect me to just let either of them go? Because we all can't stay together like she wants forever...if at all. And Harry...I don't know how he really feels about that whole thing. As far as I know, he's just realised that he can be attracted to blokes...and so did I." A shadow of his usual smirk graced his lips. "Well, that's a lie. I only like Potter."

Blaise stayed quiet for a moment, sifting through the information. "So...Raven's 'what', now? Mad at you for accomplishing your goal?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I don't think it's that. Again, I snapped at her, telling her that she was trying to push Harry at me, that he wasn't ready, and she didn't take it too well. That was, of course, a mere hour or so before Harry and I...'got together'."

"I'm taking this is when he gave you...?" Blaise swallowed as those images returned.

"A blowjob? Yeah. It was the same night. The night Raven had us both posing in the nude."

The Brit-Italian almost swallowed his tongue. "Excuse me?"

Draco nodded. "She's used Harry as a model before, and wanted to do both of us...for her new photography obsession," Draco said in almost sarcastic exasperation, rolling his eyes.

Blaise groaned. He had been Raven's guinea pig over the weeks, letting her hang around and take pictures of him no matter what he was doing. The only place he wouldn't let her follow was into the bathroom...she seemed to have no qualms with taking pictures of him taking a shower, shaving, or taking a piss. "Capturing still moments like she couldn't do with paint" was her excuse...her new motto, it seemed. As appealing as it might have seemed to have her watch him showering, he'd rather keep old temptations away. There was no use in tempting fate. Or Draco's wrath. He'd buried that line of thought long ago, and had no intention of ever giving it a chance to grow back.

"Well," Blaise said, "Do you know what you want? Do you want them both? Or are you just indulging Raven?"

Draco stared at one spot on the hardwood floor for a few moments, a furrow growing in his brow. "I...I love Raven. I mean, she's been there for me when things have been really bad, and I really grew to love her. And Harry...god...I know I just realised I loved him recently, but it feels like much longer, you know?" He looked over at his friend.

Blaise smirked. "No, I can't quite say I do know. But I think I know what you mean. You've known Potter for ages...you guys have always been in each others lives, right? Always antagonising each other...always trying to one-up the other...and Raven, you never really paid attention to you her until she started paying attention to you. After Initiation."

Draco nodded knowingly. "Yes. So, to answer your question, yes, I suppose I do want them both. I guess I'm just as selfish as Raven in that respect. I want them both, regardless of Harry's feelings, though he does know both of ours. He told me that it's his decision to make: whether he wants to be with the both of us, one of us, or neither. He'll weigh the consequences. He knows that I've been thinking of marrying Raven, so he knows the potential for him to get kicked out of the picture. Saturday night, even after he heard that, he apparently didn't care." Draco sighed. "I just needed him to know the reality, you know? He...he's never been with anyone before."

"He hasn't? Not anyone? Ever?"

"No. He kissed a girl in 5^th year; that's it. Other than me, of course. I'm basically his first everything. Except Chaikovsky."

"Your Quidditch Captain? How the hell does he play in? How complicated is this mess?"

Draco chuckled without humour. "More than I'd really like to think about. Friday night, Chaikovsky apparently kissed Harry. Scared him nearly senseless. Harry didn't understand why he didn't beat the shit out of the guy. Wondered why he even kissed him back. Harry didn't even think, really, of being with guys. I think it had only crossed his mind once or twice, and Chaikovsky took him by surprise."

"And then the next night he's giving you a blowjob? Did you, like, persuade him or something? How'd he get so comfortable with the idea so quickly?"

"He told me that he's had a few thoughts of the...salacious kind, about me. So, like I said, he had thought of it a few times, but was probably still trying to decide if he actually liked me that way or not, and then Chaikovsky kissed him."

"You seemed to have this pretty figured out."

"I've had a lot of time to think, with neither Raven or Harry talking to me." Draco flopped back on his bed. "And now, Harry's just asked Chaikovsky out. I saw him do it. They even kissed again. They didn't know I was there."

"But I... Does Potter like you or not?" Blaise asked in exasperated confusion.

"Oh, he likes me. I'm just an idiot. I told him yesterday morning after we woke up that I had to patch things up with Raven before he and I could really try being together, and he didn't take it well. I told him to go date the Captain for a while."

"Yeah...you are an idiot."

"Hey!" Draco swatted at his friend's arm.

"I'm using your words; don't get defensive." Blaise lied down next to the blond. "I honestly don't know what to do, or how to help you, Drake. It's a right clusterfuck."

Draco closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know. But...thanks. For listening anyway. I've not really had anyone to talk to about this sort of thing...even Raven, really. We never had to talk about something like this. There's been no one of any importance between her and Pansy. And now, she's part of the problem."

"I really wish I could do something to help. You and Raven are like family. I want you two to be happy."

"Thank you, Blaise."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me talking to anyone. I'm not sure anyone would believe me. You and Harry Potter? Lovers? I'm still having a hard time believing it."

Draco smirked. "For how inexperienced he is, he sure catches on quickly. He kisses quite well. And he's incredibly passionate. Merlin, I don't think I could've even found my head even though it's attached to my shoulders. I couldn't think of anything else but him."

"Okay, firstly, no more talking about Gryffindors--especially Harry Potter--and how they are in bed, in my presence. It's disturbing. And secondly, it sounds like you've got it bad. Like...Hufflepuff bad."

Draco groaned, covering his eyes and rolling onto his side. "Ugh. Don't tell me that. Next thing I know, I'll be sending him flowers and bloody sonnets about undying love. Gross."

Blaise laughed before a short silence descended upon them. "Hmmm...you know what Potter said to me that one night of that really bad storm?"

"No, what?"

"Well, after I threatened him with massive amounts of pain if he ever fucked with you and Raven's relationship--I still need to do something about that, apparently--he told me about how that even though we're not at Hogwarts anymore, we still associate everyone with our Houses from school. I mean, even our dorms here are divided by our old Houses. It was a rather interesting insight."

"Yes...that is interesting. Some habits are just a little harder to break than others."

"But apparently, getting over your hate for Potter is easier?"

Draco shook his head. "No...that one was still hard...but it...I don't know, dissolved itself over time, I think. It was easier than I thought it would be. The hard part was getting Harry to want to change our relationship as well. And what's this with threatening him with 'massive amounts of pain'?"

Blaise chuckled. "Actually, I didn't get that far, I started to threaten him, but he cut me off and told me he had no intention of 'messing up' your relationship."

"You're not still going to do anything about it, are you? Because this really isn't Harry's fault. I mean, he is directly related, but it's hardly his doing. Raven and I...we're what's fucked this up. I'm not sure if my libido is what's been driving me...the idea that I can have both of them...I don't know. But if I had thought about what Raven was really going after, I never would have said yes to that bet." He sighed. "Merlin, that bet. That's what it all comes down to in the end. I'll have to tell Harry eventually. And then he'll go back to hating me."

"Why? It sounds like the bet was merely the catalyst to get you moving, Draco. Raven used it to get you to do what she wanted."

"That's just it. Not everything I've done over the past three or four weeks has been just me and my feelings. A lot of it has been premeditated by me to get Harry to do what I wanted. I was doing it to make Raven happy. At first. Then I started doing it for myself. For Harry. I figured out what Raven was trying to do, and I agreed. But the ends don't always justify the means. I'll have to tell him. Sometime soon."

"Suit yourself for a long and painful death then, mate. Whether I like Potter or not, there's got to be a better way to resolve this situation. The bet doesn't matter anymore. You love Potter, you love Raven. Potter likes you, and Raven loves you and Potter. It's a situation tangled by heartstrings, now--not manipulation. How does Potter feel about Raven?"

"He likes her." The blond looked over at his friend. "And when did you become so knowledgeable in the 'fine art' of relationship dynamics? Talking about heartstrings and whatnot. You're as bachelor as they come."

"Yeah, but just because I don't get into relationships much doesn't mean I don't observe them. I can look at them from a farther point of view than the people involved. And I know you and Raven like the back of my hand. It's Potter that I can't help you with. He throws something entirely different into it."

"I'll second that." The lay there for a few moments, musing about the situation, before Draco said, "Do you have anyone new in your sights lately? You've been awfully celibate."

Blaise shrugged. "I've been concentrating on school. I had a few flings when I went to see Nonna and Papa over the summer, but right now...I've been looking at Daphne."

"Daph, huh?"

"Yeah. Basically, she's a bitch. But I like them a little feisty. She'll be putty in my hands in no time." Blaise's grin was feral.

Draco matched the grin, remembering times when he and Blaise would plot which girl would be next, or which ones to utterly humiliate. "So why her now?"

"Well, like you said, it's been a while. I've otherwise been preoccupied."

"No, I mean, why now? Why not back at Hogwarts?"

Blaise's smile disappeared and his gaze turned distant. "I...don't know. Back then I guess I was trying to think better of my housemates, you know? Have them not just be 'the next one'. I had more respect for Daph than that. And I...had a more serious crush on someone else. But nothing came of it."

"Who was it?"

Blaise paused for a tense moment. "Raven."

Draco chuckled. "Thought so."

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be? I know you, Blaise. I'm sure that you saw that she was utterly in love with me, and being such the friend you are, you backed off. I'm touched. Really."

"Gee...thanks, Draco."

Draco laughed. "Oh, you know what I mean. She's with me now. And you obviously fancy Daphne, so why should I be worried? I shouldn't be, should I?"

Blaise waved him off. "No, no. I buried that long ago. I'm happy for you two. I hope things work out."

"Me too. So do you not respect Daphne anymore, and that's why you're going after her, or is it more than that?"

Blaise shrugged. "I still respect her. She's bloody gorgeous. I'd like to see if anything works out."

"Blaise Zabini, are you telling me you want to settle down?"

Another shrug. "Maybe. We'll see what happens."

"Blaise Zabini, Wizard Playboy, settling down. Will wonders never cease?"

Blaise pushed his sarcastic friend away. "Oh shove off, Draco! I could say the same about you!"

Draco grabbed a pillow and hit the other man with it. "No you can't! I've hardly slept with anyone!"

Blaise stole the pillow from Draco so the blond had to snatch the other one in defence. "Oh? What about Tina? And Madeline, that girl from France? Or Jackie? And what about those Italian girls we met before seventh year? Did you not sleep with all of them?"

Draco got on his knees and whacked at Blaise's head, who parried with his own feather-stuffed protection. "No, actually. I didn't sleep will all of them. We messed around, mostly. I was trying to be good. For Pansy's sake."

"Didn't stop you from fucking those random chits after she died, did it?" Blaise said good-naturedly with a swipe of his pillow.

Draco stopped and gave Blaise a serious look. "Yeah. I know. I was in a bad place, Blaise. I don't remember their names or their faces, and that's fine with me. But at least I let Raven help me through it as best she could from so far away."

Blaise smiled. "Which is why I know you'll be fine."

Draco returned the grin. Right before he thwacked Blaise really hard on the ear.

~~~

Harry quickly realised that life on any campus was just as it was at Hogwarts. Word of the Boy Saviour (who wasn't quite a boy anymore, he had to remind them) and his Quidditch Captain (who was male!) dating spread faster than Snape giving out detentions to a classroom of Gryffindor first years. So again, Harry found himself the scrutiny of the Wizard press. Witch Weekly wept, The Daily Prophet schemed, and Luna asked Harry for an exclusive interview of the truth for The Quibbler.

Smiling graciously, Harry accepted the offer.

Rita Skeeter, of course, Apparated in as soon as she heard the news, which was just after kippers the next morning. Harry immediately snubbed her, still not trusting the Animagus after all these years. While she didn't write slander so much anymore about Harry, she still managed to suggest some outrageous things during the war, which had the effect of spreading speculation as fact, per usual.

"But Harry," she had implored, "I've been good. I promise the truth." Rita simpered and placed a scarlet-tipped hand on her breast.

"I'm terribly sorry, Rita, old girl," Harry replied, a smile on his face and a wicked gleam in his eye that Ron was sure he'd learned from Malfoy, but dismissed as he caught the dangerous glare forming on Rita's face at being called 'old girl'. "But I've already promised exclusive rights to The Quibbler, and their correspondent, Luna Lovegood." And by that time, he had.

"Luna Lovegood?" Rita repeated, as if the name were sour on her tongue, "Isn't she the editor's daughter?"

"Yes, and a dear friend of mine."

Rita narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "She'll be biased in your favour," she said bluntly.

Harry's smile turned almost feral. "Even if she was, it's better than someone who's not. Good day, Ms. Skeeter." And he shut the door in her face.

"Beetle Skeeter", however, would not be dissuaded, and tailed Harry and Mikhail all week, her parchment and quill ready, and her photographer close behind.

Harry, however, was quick to warn Mikhail from the off about the potential publicity disasters waiting to happen upon word of their relationship spreading and leaving campus. Mikhail cocked an eyebrow, but smiled, pulling Harry in for another one of those sweet kisses.

"I'll deal with it," he had said. "I wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that you're Harry Potter when I kissed you the other night."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Really? I had nearly forgotten. That bitch Rita Skeeter has actually managed to leave me alone for the past few years."

"Nothing to report, I suppose."

"Not until now. I expect her to be here bright and early tomorrow."

Mikhail couldn't help but smile at the small pout on Harry's mouth. Kissing it away he said, "Don't worry. We can always get some type of ban on her or something if need be. Now we should probably go shower, the rest of the team will be out soon." He looked over Harry's shoulder to the locker rooms across the pitch.

That was when Harry said he'd feel a bit more comfortable if he took his shower at home, and went to retrieve his school things before heading home.

But now that he was under 24-hour surveillance by Skeeter and her lackey, not to mention all of his classmates and peers, professors, and anyone in the village, Harry was finding it harder and harder to feel reassured by Mikhail's words. He hadn't seen Mikhail outside of practice at all this week, but they had made tentative plans to go to Celestine's that Friday. Barring Skeeter didn't piss him off so much that he'd have to dispose of her, and thusly, be sent to Azkaban for life. He'd gotten pretty far being the Boy-Who-Lived, he knew that, but he could tell his name was running thin.

Letters were pouring in as usual, and while Harry couldn't look at them, Hermione did read the first few or so, just to get a feel for how the Wizarding World was taking his newfound sexuality. According to her, young witches were crying, not just all over Britain, but most of Europe too, and many mothers were either tsking in disapproval, or wishing him happiness. Harry had expected all of this, and only burned any other letters he received from crying girls and angry mothers, or, in some cases, disgusted men. However, something that Harry wasn't expecting, was the apparent onslaught of letters from young men, some even boys, all delighted at the news of his evident like of men. These he actually took from Hermione and read, and a few of them even made him blush a bright red colour, before he quickly handed them back.

"What? What is it, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry looked away. "Some of them...want to do things to me," Harry mumbled.

"Do things to you? Like...like those kinds of things? Like what you did with Malfoy?"

"Worse, mate. Worse." Harry shuddered, and Ron made a gagging noise.

"Well, overall, they all seem to be taking it rather well, Harry," Hermione said, taking the opened letters and throwing them out. She had long ago disposed of the Howlers and other malicious letters, getting into habit of checking them before opening.

"Yeah, but now I need to deal with Rita."

And so the week went on. Harry gave his official and very exclusive interview to Luna, who quickly got it to her father for the new issue of the eclectic magazine. Harry went to classes, where thankfully, Rita couldn't venture, and then he went to Quidditch practice, where he had the bear her damn photographer snapping pictures of him and Mikhail, and then he had to dodge Rita as she tried to question either him or Mikhail before and after practices.

"Ms. Skeeter," Mikhail said one day, "if you don't leave the pitch, I'm going to have to ask for a restraining order of some kind. You're distracting my team."

"Why, Mr. Chaikovsky, I am so terribly sorry. I'll be happy to leave if you'd just give me a little interview."

"I'm not that stupid, Ms. Skeeter. But if you do refuse to leave this campus, and the campus officials cannot remove you, I'll be happy to speak to my father, whose law-wizard firm will be more than happy to help me." As Harry watched on with the rest of the team, he tried hard to hide his smile. Apparently, Mikhail wasn't afraid to show a little gut. Harry wondered what house he had been in at Hogwarts, as he certainly didn't remember him.

Rita's 'sweet' demeanour gave way immediately, and she glared up at the Quidditch Captain. "You cannot stop the press, young man. The people of this community want to know the truth!"

"Then I suggest that they pick up a Quibbler next week, madam. Harry has already given all the information he's going to, and I have no comment on the issue. Now leave."

Rita, clearly displeased, turned away with a muttered curse, her lackey trailing behind her like always.

Mikhail turned back to his team, all of who were all laughing hysterically. Well, Draco was smirking, at any rate. "It won't keep her from staying in Rookwood, but hopefully, she won't be on campus anymore. Alright you sweaty dogs, into the locker room!"

Harry trailed behind, but only gave Mikhail a kiss when they were just inside the door to the locker room. "Are you always so chivalrous?" asked Harry, grinning.

Mikhail smirked, which, Harry noted, was a far cry from having the acerbic taste to it that he had gotten so used to from Draco. "I'd like to think so," the older man replied.

"Hmm, maybe I should have started dating you sooner. You could have been chivalrous all the time."

Ron made some semi-disgusted noise from around the corner of lockers, which was mimicked by a passing Draco as the blond had grabbed his things so he could go to his own shower at home. Harry's brow creased slightly, but let it slide, not wanting to get into what would probably be some sort of verbal squall that he knew he couldn't hold up in. The rest of his male teammates snickered, and Harry felt lucky to have such a relatively open team to back him and Mikhail up. They seemed to be okay with the two men dating, and only a few of them made offhand comments about sucking cock to be allowed to play, but someone else only shot back that Malfoy was the only one who that statement could be applied. The others acquiesced that yeah: Draco was the one who's playing ability and status on the team was in question.

As long as either of them didn't hit on any of the others, where they stuck their pricks was really none of anyone's business. Though, Jesse Morrison did have the gall to ask if either of them had checked the rest of them out.

Harry shook his head and Mikhail said, "No, but did you want us to?" Jesse flushed, the rest of the guys laughed, and Mikhail hooked an arm around Harry's neck. "Nope mates. Only this looker here," he finished. And that was that.

Thankfully.

But now, Ron said, "Were Hermione and I that sickening when we fell in love?"

Harry turned and yelled, "Yes! And we're not in love, Ron. We only got together two days ago."

"And you're already making the rest of us ralph."

"Young love," Danny Darby sighed in falsetto, heading to the showers.

"We're not in love," Harry asserted. "Honestly."

Mikhail cocked his eyebrow like always and spared his new boyfriend a questioning glance, who didn't notice.

"Well," Harry said to Mikhail, "I'm going to go home and shower. Looks like that will become the norm around here."

The taller man removed his arm and stepped back. "Still afraid to see me in the nude? I'm not usually so conceited, but I honestly don't think I'm that ugly. Unless you're afraid you'll jump me?" It was paired with a lascivious wink.

Harry's eyes widened and he couldn't help but blush. It was starting to become a rather bothersome reaction to anything even remotely sexual. He mentally sighed. Perhaps I'm not sure how I'd react to you around the other guys, or because I feel like I might be betraying Draco if I do... Kissing is enough right now. Should be enough. Harry had to push away the nagging reminder of just why he had asked Mikhail out. To feel like he did with Draco, and to get back at him a little.

"Perhaps," he finally mumbled, feeling a bit troubled, and tried not to let it show.

Mikhail laughed and patted his head, as if he were a child. "That's fine, Harry. We'll move slow, yeah?"

"Yeah." With one last peck, Harry gathered his things, then left.

~~~~~

That was one thing; Harry thought to himself as he walked home, it seemed so natural to just give Mikhail kisses here and there. But when confronted with the physical side of things, he suddenly wasn't so sure. It didn't have anything to do with Mikhail being attractive or not. He was, Harry thought, so that wasn't the problem. The problem was that on top of feeling like he'd be betraying Draco in some strange way (which Harry still couldn't figure out the reasoning behind), he felt self-conscious about his abilities in bed. Draco hadn't really given him any verbal praise, other than the occasional gasp or short cry of what most certainly would have been pleasure.

Mikhail probably knew that Harry's experience with girls was limited, and obviously knew Harry had never been with a guy (save for Draco, who only three other people knew about, and Harry didn't fancy letting anyone else in on the 'secret'). Mikhail just seemed so self-assured, and Harry was rather intimidated by it. Whatever overwhelming lust had taken over his senses when he was with Draco that night was long gone, and now Harry only felt unsure of himself. Perhaps it was time to break out that book again.

But that thought immediately led to Draco in general, and it all became a confusing mess of emotions and experiences. Yelling at Draco, laughing with Draco, touching Draco, kissing Draco, breathing Draco...the list of actions and sensory innervations still could make Harry breathless just thinking about it. And the emotions that went with those physical memories only left him more confused and his chest ached just a little bit more.

Did he miss Draco? Did Draco just annoy him? Hurt him? Or did Harry like Draco, quite a bit more than he originally thought?

It was all so confusing, and while even being with Mikhail wasn't 'simple', Harry knew how he felt about the bloke; he was attractive, willing, and a nice guy to be around. He liked him, and was actually starting to fancy the idea of being around him a bit longer. In retrospect, Harry realised that he did jump into this without much a clear plan; the idea was to get Draco jealous, right? And fulfil his desires along the way...then let Mikhail down gently. Yeah...that's right.

Harry didn't care if he was being stubborn in refusing to see the real picture at stake here. He resolved himself again of his actions and direct feelings for Mikhail, deciding that again, it was his life, we was to do what he liked with it...experiment a little, try new things, and just flat out enjoy life.

It was what helped him get through the night, at any rate.

~~~~~

Rita Skeeter stood just outside of the ring of buildings, looking between dormitories three and four to the courtyard beyond.

It was no use turning into a beetle...the headmaster of the small school effectively and magically banned her from setting foot on campus. He claimed that she was distracting the students from learning. Pish-posh, she thought. It wasn't as if she was going into the classrooms...just asking everyone that would talk to her if they wouldn't mind sparing a bit of information about the Boy-er, Man Potter, his habits, and just how they felt about this newest development. She was met with just as many cold glares as she was met with those people eager to tell her what they could. But Rita was far from stupid. She knew that those people just wanted the fame...they knew nothing more about Harry Potter than the average wizard off the cobblestone.

That didn't mean she wouldn't take their accounts to heart, however.

The Prophet was getting impatient, on the other hand. She'd managed to secure a front-page article...if only she had an article to give. One full and ready for the front-page, at least. It was just her luck...that insipid Loony Lovegood and her father's crack of a magazine was printing their exclusive interview on Monday, and she had to counter that. But the Prophet wanted something now...something to blow them all out of the water, and lock-in her position at the Prophet again.

Just as she was going to turn back and pull it all out of her ass, her sharp eyes detected movement before her to the right.

My, my, my...if it isn't the secret-giver himself...

"Draco! Draco, darling!" Rita called and waved the striking man over. And yes, was he striking...it was a shame he was so many years her junior...his tongue was too wicked, besides. Better keep things on a business level.

Draco stopped as he heard his name being called, his flaxen head turning and finding that woman, smiling like a Cheshire cat and waving at him. Oh, fuck. He would rather like to forget his part in making Harry's life difficult with the help of Rita Skeeter back in fourth year. Though, Draco mused, it was still rather amusing. Potter and Granger? Ha!

Not moving an inch he said clearly, "What do you want, you old bat?"

Rita pouted in what Draco saw was a gut turning way, but he was sure she thought she looked wounded. "Draco, darling...you wound me. Won't you come talk to an old friend? I'm in town...we could get some tea this afternoon...what do you say?"

"I say, 'bugger off.' I'm not going to give into your machinations to deface Harry." He turned to walk away, and just as Rita opened her mouth, he realised his mistake.

"'Harry' is it, now? Last time we talked, it was 'Potter'. When did that change?" It was said in that sickly sweet honeyed tone that Draco despised.

Draco turned and smiled in his own Cheshire way at the older made-up woman. "Long before you came along, old girl. War changes a man. And Harry's friendship is more valuable than giving you ammunition. Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You won't get a thing out of me. And, if you deign to write a single slanderous syllable about Harry Potter or anything involving his personal affairs, I will personally make sure that your life is ruined. Like you tried to ruin his, and are trying to do again now. I'm sure Mr. Chaikovsky's father will be most pleased to assist me, should it come to that."

Rita's eyes narrowed. "You think you have so much power still, Mr. Malfoy. You're name is mostly trash now, you realise? Your house in shambles, your parents dead, your money forfeit to the Ministry... How do you expect to pull off ruining my life-"

But Rita didn't get a chance to finish, as Draco was suddenly very close to her, and his wand was out, pressing slightly into her windpipe.

"There are other ways, Skeeter. So don't piss me off. Or give me ammunition of my own." And with that rather unveiled threat, Draco Malfoy was gone.

Rita rubbed lightly at her throat, tingling all over. "Ah...but dear Draco...you've most certainly given me my own ammunition." And so Rita slinked back off to Rookwood to write her article. The article to make her career.

And Draco Malfoy's threats were gone like a wisp of smoke in her convoluted and manipulative mind.

~~~~~

It was too cold out, but Draco sat there anyway, on the steps of Number Three, smelling rain and snow on the air, and twirling a scarlet leaf between finger and thumb. His heavy cloak didn't do much to ward off the cold stillness of the afternoon, nor his heavy thoughts.

He wasn't one for getting so lost in thought as to be unaware of his surroundings; again, some behaviours stay ingrained, regardless of the lack of necessity for them anymore. However, he was slightly startled when a small black book was shoved under his nose, the gold edges looking dull in the surreal light.

Even as he took the journal, he avoided her gaze. But he could see her scarlet jumper, black skirt and robes out of the corner of his eye, and wondered idly when she stopped wearing green.

There was a still moment, where Draco looked at the journal cradled in his lap, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and the leaf hanging limp in his hand, while Raven studied him, before finally sitting down beside him, tucking her skirts beneath her.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, still not looking up. For everything, he seemed to say. He wasn't sure why, but he just couldn't be brave about this...because he wasn't. He never had been. He had run from the forest in first year, he had run when Harry was invisible and threw mud at him in third year, he had run during the war, and he had run from Harry now, but not quite so literally as all the other times. That didn't make his constant running away from frightening situations any different, it just happened again, is all. He was still running, even when all he was doing was sitting there, staring at a stupid book. Nothing more than leather and metal and paper and ink, but he still kept running. Was that all his life was a testament to? How to run away from things? The stubborn part of him scoffed at the idea, and resolved to look up, to give Raven the courtesy, and himself the courage. But the rest of him was scared. Talking it all out with Blaise had been fine, but in the harsh reality of it all, with a third of the equation sitting but a few inches from him, he failed. He was still a scared and pitiful young man, hiding from things he did not want to face, regardless of how much he had to.

Raven took a deep breath beside him and said, "I'm sorry for being selfish."

Draco finally looked up at her, and she looked wonderful. Dark glossy hair pulled back from her face with a red ribbon, a rose to her pale cheeks, her green eyes sparkling, even with the weight of the situation upon them. What was she referring to? Shaking his head, knowing she would see it in her peripheral vision, he replied, "You weren't being selfish. You were trying to help Harry."

A bark of despondent laughter escaped from her lips, and her eyes met his. "By forcing him into an uncomfortable situation? By shoving you at him? All for my own benefit, Draco. This all started because I'm a selfish bitch, don't you remember? It doesn't matter if Harry was ready for it...my fun has gone too far."

"What are you saying?"

"Unless Harry wants it, really wants it, we've got to stop it, Draco. It's not right. He's got to know that what he's getting into isn't permanent...it won't last, it..." She trailed off, losing whatever it was she was going to say.

"He does know. C'mon, Raven, why do you think he's so mad at me? Surely, you two have talked?"

"Yes, and I am aware that he knows, but Draco, I don't think Harry really understands. He cares for you. More than I think he realises. And I want that for him. But I want you as well. And other than my physical attraction to Harry, he just doesn't factor into the equation anymore."

"How convenient for you." Draco grimaced, looking away. "Are you suggesting that I just let Harry go? Just let him stay with Chaikovsky?"

"I...yes. Yes. I think you should. You put yourself in this particular one, Draco. You told Harry to go date him...did you think he wouldn't do it just to spite you? No, he's doing it to make you jealous. Like any normal person would do to win someone back."

Draco stared at her incredulously. "Harry wouldn't do that! Use someone...he wouldn't know how! He's just not like that...not manipulative...like you and me. And he doesn't need to win me back. He can have me...I just need you too."

"And I need you. But we can't have Harry. Not the way we want or he needs."

Draco grabbed the book from his lap and stood. "Make up your mind! You've always gone on about what Harry needs, or what he doesn't need... He needs us, he needs love, he needs to open up, someone to talk to, whatever! What I say is why not let Harry decide what he needs or doesn't need. If he wants to be with us, let him! It's his choice to make. We're no better than any of his friends, deciding what's best for him his whole life. It's his turn to make the decisions, Raven. And I'll wait until he does." With pursed lips and a painful gaze, Draco went inside and shut the door behind him, leaving Raven on the porch.

Raven sat there in the waning afternoon for a long time, staring at nothing and everything at the same time. She was slightly stung by Draco's words, but not enough for tears. Because Draco was right, and she knew this. After reading the journal, her eyes passing over words describing every transgression between the two men she cared for, she did some heavy thinking. And slowly, she came to realise that yes, while she had wanted Harry and Draco to care for each other, love each other even, she was fooling herself if she thought that either of them would walk away from it, just as soon as she, yes she, wanted them to.

She was a bloody fool. Manipulative and selfish and stupid to the core.

It wasn't that Harry didn't matter anymore, that it was only physical attraction. It wasn't that she didn't still care for him, she just knew that she wanted to marry Draco; she had for years now. But was that just a scapegoat anymore? Was she using that as an excuse? Was it some dream for her life that had been ingrained for so long that she could see no other options? That she couldn't see the prospect of letting Draco go, rather than making him let go of Harry? She didn't delude herself so much as not to realise that Draco cared for the other man very deeply, and more than she did. Because as much as she watched Harry, and fell for him in her own way, she wasn't nearly as close to him as Draco was. Oh sure, she had read every word that had passed over their lips while talking together, but what was that more than spying? Like she had always done? Looking in on secrets that only Draco should know, and yet, here he was, giving them to her in plain ink.

It was crazy. And wrong. So wrong.

As was this entire situation. From the beginning.

Morgan, what had she been thinking?

Nothing other than satisfying her own self-indulgent and Machiavellian tendencies.

So. What now? Give up Draco? Give up her love, the life she'd always wanted? Give up ever knowing his body, wrapped around hers and inside hers and knowing the prefect completion of being with the one you love in all ways possible on this plane of existence? Because that was looking to be a very real (and very scary) possibility.

"Goddess, I hate who I've become..." she whispered to herself, resting her head on her arms. But she couldn't stop being who she was, that was the crux of the matter. She was beyond thinking that she could change herself, and mostly, she didn't want to change herself. Yet she hated herself at the same time.

She was bringing up more questions than answers, as seemed to always be the case in situations like this.

Rather than feeling frustrated at Draco's swaying opinions on the situation (only last week talking about how to 'break' Harry into having sex with Draco, and now completely rebutting that statement by telling Harry to go be with someone else, if even for a short while), she only felt tired. Very weary and tired. And she hadn't a clue as to what to do. And her dreams weren't helping. She still didn't know for sure what they meant, or exactly whom they were about.

It didn't seem as though she and Draco were sorted out enough to get back together, but at the same time, all she wanted was to give herself to him; completely and fully. Even with the knowledge that she would probably have to walk away. A part of her cried out and her throat started to close off. But she didn't want to.

A part of her trilled in anticipation of finally being with Draco, and Harry as well. She had never been beyond sating her physical pleasures, but with that now(,) came so many other things she wasn't sure she could face.

Gods, she was pathetic. That last word sounded particularly like it was in Draco's voice. She wouldn't be surprised if she turned around, and he was standing right there, looking down at her with a mixture of disdain and pity. As it was, when she cast a glance back, he wasn't there.

Hardening her heart for what she knew was to come was the most difficult thing she ever had to do, but she steeled herself and did it anyway. Standing, she looked out over the vast courtyard of her home for the last two or so years, watching as wizards and witches came and went, most heading home after a long day of study and practical teachings. Taking a deep breath, she turned left and headed home herself, mentally preparing herself for the rest of the evening, knowing it would be the hardest thing she'd ever have to do.