Undefined

Chapter 32

Inter-House Unity Courtesy of Draco Malfoy

Harry didn't turn up for morning lessons, leaving Draco alone to ruminate over his realization the night before. Why hadn't his parents said anything? It seemed improbable they didn't know, unless by some miracle they were stupid enough to acquiesce to their denial.

"Sir," Draco said, tapping lightly on Snape's door following lunch.

"Yes?" Snape said, examining and probing the contents of a large jar filled with purple goo.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could ask you something," Draco said, closing the door.

"What?" Snape said, still not looking up.

"It's occurred to me that a private matter may have been disclosed," Draco said as cryptically as he could.

Snape pulled a long silver instrument from a shelf and began stirring the goo, showing no indication he intended to answer any time that day.

"Sir," Draco prompted.

"I am well aware of what you're talking about, Draco. Even though you may linger in a false reality, the staff has been aware of this 'private matter' since its humble beginnings."

"Sir, I was wondering whether or not my parents know about it?"

"No," Snape said, looking up for the first time. "They are not aware of it."

Draco breathed a great sigh of relief.

"It is your best interest, as well as the Order's, that it remains undisclosed."

"But how--"

"I will not discuss this subject again," Snape said, looking as though the mere thought of it caused intense psychological trauma. "Rest assured your parents are quite unaware of your"--Snape gritted his teeth--"relationship with Potter given my careful intervention."

Draco nodded, wondering if there was anything Snape couldn't cover up. "Yes, sir."

"Is that all, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Sir," Draco began, "does the Dark Lord know?"

Snape continued to stir the purple mess, withdrawing the silver instrument and carefully examining its consistency. "Nothing is certain, but given Potter's weak mind, it's safe to assume so."

"Sir, what--"

"Enough," Snape said, slamming a lid atop the jar. "The Headmaster will be more than willing to discuss this with you."

With that, he shoved Draco out the door and slammed it in his face.

Draco wandered back to the common room, noticing no one looked directly at him, but it seemed as though every eye was watching him. Pansy, he realized, had not nagged him for weeks. She sat at the table with a fourth-year boy, leaning over his shoulder and reading from his book. Her presence seemed ancient and irrelevant to his life. When her huffs and tantrums had died down, he realized she'd slipped quietly out of his consciousness, as had nearly everyone else who'd been pertinent to his life. He concluded that this old life meant nothing anymore; everything that had created the staple of it, namely power, manipulation and control, no longer mattered. It became as intangible as paper and ash, crumbling in the wind. Who cares what they think, he thought, looking at his fellow housemates. Fuck them. Fuck them all; they're nothing. He bypassed his usual seat and walked to the boys' dormitory.

He sat down on his bed, the room quite empty, and he suddenly felt more alone that he ever had. Montague's compulsory cleanliness irked Draco as his eyes rested on his roommate's well dusted and organized bureau. He knew the only place he would ever feel like he truly belonged was with Harry, and with that acknowledgement came a whole host of problems, namely his reputation with his housemates, his parents, as well as his identity. The charade didn't seem worth it anymore. What was the point in living a lie if the entire staff already knew, as well as the two people who had the most pull on Harry's life: Dumbledore and the Dark Lord? What does it matter, Draco thought yet again, what does any of it matter? When had he become so weak as to let outside opinions dictate his actions?

Rationally, Draco felt no shame with who he was; his only concern was his parents' reaction, particularly his father. Those cold eyes would confirm every bit of hate and loathing Draco knew his father harbored against dissidents, and his wrath was not something to test. Acceptance of this new life within his old pristine, aristocratic world was not an option. Such affairs were best done under the guise of secrecy and stealth, but he found this charade monotonous and unfulfilling. To act this way implied shame and guilt and everything else that did not equate to the freedom and joy he felt with Harry, which caused something to fall violently into place.

He stood from his bed and laughed like he was throwing aside all pretense, as though his black and white view of the world had suddenly shifted to a vivid Technicolor. Before he knew it, Draco was on the floor, gasping for breath, still laughing as though his life depended on it. He didn't hear Montague walk in and lay his bag on his bed.

"Malfoy," Montague said uncertainly, "you OK?"

"Yes," Draco said, sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes. "Yes, I'm brilliant."

"You're mental," Montague said, re-fluffing his pillows and straightening his covers.

"That too," Draco said, standing and leaving Montague alone in the dormitory.

Draco walked the corridors, finding Harry outside the Great Hall, immersed in a conversation with Ron and Hermione. Draco nonchalantly strode over to the three, placing himself directly in the midst of their conversation.

"What're you doing?" Harry asked lowly, looking around.

"Joining you," Draco said.

Ron and Hermione exchanged dubious glances, before Harry awkwardly nodded.

"Do I need a password to join in this conversation?" Draco said, folding his arms.

"Don't be thick," Harry said. "It's just--"

"Yeah, there're people around." Draco threw his arms up and looked around in mock terror. "They're a scary lot! Look at the way they point and stare!"

"They are staring," Ron said, looking around a bit red-faced.

"Well, of course they're staring!" Hermione huffed. "I mean, Draco just strolls over and joins us without a row ensuing!"

"I can leave," Draco said, retreating a few steps, but Hermione grabbed his robes and pulled him back.

"You'll do no such thing!" she snapped. "This nonsense has gone on long enough! I don't care if the whole bloody school knows; I just want the four of us to get on in a normal fashion."

"Hermione," Ron began.

"No! This is ridiculous! Let them point and stare! Draco's my friend and I won't go about as though he's my sworn enemy! I don't have the time or energy for it! They can take the piss out of us all they want! I wish they'd sod off!" She flipped off the hordes of staring students, causing Draco to burst into laughter and Harry and Ron to look at her in awe.

"Hermione...wow!" Ron said appreciatively.

"Enough is enough," Hermione said haughtily as the bell rang. "We'd best get on to our lessons."

And with that she turned on heel, grabbing Ron by the hand and leading him through the Entrance Hall. Harry glanced briefly at Draco, giving him a jerk of the head to indicate he was to follow, and the pair of them set off after Ron and Hermione.

"Is she always like this?" Draco asked.

"O.W.L.s tend to make her a bit mental," Harry admitted.

The walk to Care of Magical Creatures proved more jarring than Draco could have anticipated. He could not ignore the points, stares, and whispers as he accompanied the three of them to class, but refused to let any look of disconcertion flicker across his face. He was too adept at hiding his true emotions to give in to the mutterings and gossip of his classmates. Pansy's derisive shriek outside the gamekeeper's hut, however, proved too prominent to ignore.

"Draco?!" she exclaimed, pointing at the four of them, her face a mix of horror and disgust.

"What?" he said coolly.

"What are you doing with them?" she demanded, disgust now etched fully on her face.

Even Crabbe and Goyle looked mentally stunned at the sight of their leader among the enemy.

"Standing," Draco said.

"With a half-blood, a Mudblood, and a blood-traitor?" she spat. Draco felt Ron stiffen next to him. "What's wrong with you? You've gone mental! Did that filthy Mudblood hex you? Did you stick it to her and get infected with her disgusting--"

"Shut the fuck up, Parkinson!" Draco bellowed, drawing, if it were possible, even more attention to them.

"Are you shagging her?" Pansy's voice was very shrill now. "Are you shagging a disgusting Mudblood, Draco? Surely you wouldn't stoop that low!"

Draco held an arm out to stop Ron from pouncing on Pansy, girl or not, and walked over to her, pulling her aside roughly by her arm.

"You need to shut your fucking mouth," Draco said.

"What's wrong with you?" Pansy said, looking aghast.

"Nothing," Draco said, shaking her very hard and fighting the urge to slap her.

"Is this why you've been acting off lately? Are you involved with that Mudblood slut?"

Draco very nearly slapped her, but, ever in control, restrained. "You're not worth it," he said, turning his back on her.

"Draco! I demand you come back here this instant and explain yourself!"

"I explain myself to NO ONE AT ANY MOMENT OF ANY DAY AT ANY TIME, YOU STUPID BITCH! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!"

Fury coursed through his veins the likes of which he'd never felt. He could feel it slamming against his head and chest, fighting to break free; his body shook as he fought to push it back down to where he could effectively restore it to timidity. He'd never lost his temper so fully before. And just as suddenly, he was aware that everyone was staring stock still. He thought for a moment that time had literally frozen as nothing, not even the leaves on the ground, stirred. He walked away from Pansy, leaving her ogling and her mouth flapping noiselessly open and closed, as he rejoined Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

It was one thing, Draco decided at dinner that evening, for Harry to walk around like a loose cannon as no one paid him any mind. It was quite another for Draco himself to act in the same manner. The stares increased triple fold, though no one dared to mutter or whisper within eyeshot. Clumps of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins consorted with one another in the corridors, dark corners, and any other deserted area with enough space for more than two people to fit.

Despite the commotion surrounding him, Draco felt oddly proud at the amount of inter-house unity his private life garnered within the walls of the castle. Surely, he thought, this would make even McGonagall smile. Members of his own house steered well clear of him, and Draco was quite alone as he sat down to dinner that evening. He had half a mind to join Harry, but decided against it, as Gryffindors cast the trio wayward glances and muttered behind their backs. At least they have one another, Draco thought, frowning as he piled carrots onto his plate, then realized he didn't want carrots at all, or anything else on his plate for that matter.

"Just add some salt to those," Harry said, sitting across from him. "It helps the flavor."

Draco smiled, never really feeling sorry for himself, but unable to ignore the vast amount of empty space that followed him wherever he went.

"If it helps," Draco said, reaching for the salt. "Everyone's looking."

"So?"

"And muttering," Draco said, referring to the loud hiss that filled that Great Hall.

"So?" Harry said, taking a carrot from Draco's plate.

"How can it not bother you?"

"I'm used to it."

"It's more than that," Draco said.

"Maybe I'm not ashamed."

"And I am?"

"Are you?" Harry said, popping another carrot into his mouth.

"No," Draco said truthfully.

"But?"

"Don't act so thick," Draco said, shoving his plate across to Harry. "You know my circumstances."

"Just write a letter," Harry said, grabbing Draco's fork.

"A letter?"

"That's what Hermione always tells me to do when I'm cross about something."

"Doubt anyone'd want to read about it, especially with my father in Azkaban," Draco said, feeling guilty his father's predicament had been pushed out of his mind up to that moment.

He was rather appalled to find that a part of him was secretly glad his father was locked up, knowing what his reaction would be to Draco's news, which, given the look on Pansy's face, had already spread well beyond the castle.

"After my meeting with Dumbledore today, I doubt anyone's going to care about all this for much longer anyway," Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Draco said.

"Later."

"You can't put bait out like that out and not expect me to take it!"

"Not here."

"Give me a hint."

"No."

"Please," Draco begged, running his foot the length of Harry's calf.

"No!"

"Pretty, please?" Draco said, reaching Harry's knee.

"It's to do with Voldemort," Harry said very lowly. "But that's all I'm telling you."

"Did you tell Ron and Hermione?"

"No," Harry said. "Not everything. They don't need to know."

"But you'll tell me," Draco said lowly, "because you know of certain advantages I can offer that they can't."

"Don't start; not now," Harry said.

"What?" Draco said. "Everyone's talking about us behind our backs as it is. Why not add to it?"

"I'm not fucking you on the table," Harry said, jabbing carrots onto his fork.

"Such a dirty mind," Draco said. "I was talking about giving you the password to the Slytherin common room."

"Right," Harry said.

"C'mon," Draco said, standing and gathering his things. "I'm done."

"There're still turnips."

"Well, take it with you if you want," Draco snapped. "I need some peace and quiet."

Harry scrambled after Draco, leaving the turnip-filled plate behind.

Draco collapsed in the sanctity of the Come and Go Room, finding it filled with large bottles of brandy and wine, as well as biscuits, not realizing it was exactly what he wanted.

"What did Dumbledore say?" Draco asked, grabbing a biscuit from a foil wrapper.

He felt Harry's hands snake around his waist and his hips thrust into the small of his back.

"What's this?" Draco said, turning his head and looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

"It's called a hard on," Harry said as though Draco were a five-year-old. "And it's what happens when you're sexually aroused."

"I see," Draco said, taking a bite of biscuit. "And what causes this sudden arousal?"

"'I explain myself to no one at any moment of any day at any time', seems to do the trick," Harry said, planting kisses along Draco's jaw and neck.

"Stupid bitch deserved it," Draco said, examining the biscuit before taking another bite.

"I've never heard you talk to her like that before," Harry said, still kissing Draco's neck, and pulled his robes down to reach more skin.

"She deserved it."

"Yes."

"Stupid slut." He felt Harry shudder slightly and grind harder against him. "She's fucked every bloke in Slytherin at least twice."

"More than twice," Harry said, pulling Draco free of his robes.

"Probably," Draco said, finishing off his biscuit and licking his fingers. "She'll drop her knickers for anything that stands still long enough."

"She's disgusting," Harry said, gliding his hand lightly over Draco's stirring erection.

"Yes," Draco said, arching his back. "She is."

"Filthy," Harry said, grinding harder against Draco and kneading his crotch.

"Filthy," Draco said, moaning.

"Call her a filthy Mudblood," Harry demanded.

Draco nearly lost the moment at the request, but a certain hand rubbing him deliciously and unflinchingly made him comply without thinking.

"She's a filthy Mudblood," Draco said, groaning and squirming against Harry. "Fuck."

Just as suddenly as Harry initiated it, he pulled away and turned Draco round, slamming him onto the ground and smothering him with fierce kisses, still grinding against him. Draco tugged at Harry's robes and shirt, needing to feel the skin beneath, but Harry beat him to it, pulling Draco's shirt open and running his tongue the length of his chest.

"Say you've fucked her," Harry said, unfastening Draco's trousers.

"I fucked her," Draco said, grinding against Harry's hand. "I fucked a filthy Mudblood!"

Draco cried out when Harry's hand touched him. He pulled Harry into a kiss, crushing his lips and gliding his tongue as far into his mouth as he could. It didn't last near as long as Draco wanted, but he allowed Harry the freedom to explore and touch as he saw fit.

"Was it good?" Harry said, unfastening his own trousers and pushing Draco's hand inside.

"No. It was disgusting."

Harry groaned loudly, his head falling back as his eyes closed and his tongue ran lightly over his lips.

"She was the most disgusting thing I've ever touched," Draco said, pumping lightly and tensing as Harry's hand wanked him in kind.

"What was it like?" Harry half-moaned.

"It was filthy. She's vile; everything about her is vile."

"More," Harry said, and Draco didn't know exactly what Harry referred to so he simultaneously quickened his pace as he continued on his diatribe.

"The way she moves and smells and tastes is disgusting," Draco said, biting his lip.

"Did it feel this good?" Harry panted, flipping Draco onto his stomach and pulling his trousers down around his knees.

"NO!" Draco cried and he felt Harry prepare him for a very welcome intrustion. "No, I'd never fuck that dirty Mudblood again!"

"Never?" Harry breathed, his chest falling against Draco's back and his hips thrusting involuntarily.

"Never," Draco groaned, closing his eyes and allowing himself to simply feel.

"She's like a disease--"

Before he finished the sentence he felt Harry release and slam onto his back, panting wildly.

"Harry," Draco said, his voice muffled.

"What?"

"I'm still hard, and this isn't the best way for me to lie right now."

Harry pushed himself up slowly. "Sorry."

"Don't ruin it," Draco said.

Harry half-smiled as his chest heaved and he pulled Draco back around, pushing his knees apart and swallowing him whole. Draco finished nearly as soon as Harry's lips closed over him, as he tugged at great tufts of dark hair and bucked his hips wildly, screaming Harry's name as he came.

"Shit," Draco panted, once Harry slid next to him. "I never knew you were such a pervert."