Best Friend's Confession

THE BEST FRIEND'S CONFESSION

On my twentieth birthday I woke up with a headache. A nasty one. For a few moments I just lied there, unmoving, my head hurting and strangely empty. Uncertainly, I began to explore the surroundings. Well, “explore” was probably not the right word to describe checking for any sounds in my vicinity that could inform me about my whereabouts, combined with almost imperceptible moving of my limbs – just to make sure they were still there. Visual survey I wisely decided to put off for better times. Say next year. The result of my investigation was disturbing: I realized that about 90% of my body hurt as much as my head and that I was practically crushed by some heavy weight. And I simply had no energy to attempt breaking loose.

Some moments later I concluded that the wisest course of actions would be to try actually to remember what brought me here. That included finding out what was “here” and who “I” was. So I settled for exploration of my memory. The first thing that came to mind were events that took place four years ago…

* * * * *

I was used to blame it on Neville. It was Neville who back in our sixth year at Hogwarts ran into our dorm panting and blurted out that Draco Malfoy was gathering Death Eaters. We were all excited and worried, all began to shoot out questions at him. He did not know much: he just saw Malfoy talking to other Slytherins. They were laughing and Neville heard how one of them said “Morsmordre”. This information was insufficient to send Draco Malfoy to Azkaban, but enough to arouse interest in five stupid Gryffindor boys and make them start a dangerous game.

Almost immediately we decided to investigate the matter. Neville’s news brought out all types of fantastic plots in our heads: from Malfoy planning to bully house elves into poisoning Dumbledore to Slytherins opening entrance to Hogwarts for Voldemort at midnight. We felt it was out duty to protect Hogwarts from evil Slytherins.

A decision was made to spy on them. We prepared a schedule; each of us would be assigned to this or that “suspect” and would follow him or her around the school, after classes, of course. I, as the most experienced Hogwarts adventurer, was given the hardest case – Draco Malfoy himself.

My first reaction was excitement. Since the disappointment we experienced back in our second year, when we failed to prove that Malfoy had something to do with opening the Chamber of Secrets, I always wanted to redeem myself, to provide evidence of the fact that Malfoy was no good. This was my opportunity!

Within days, the Slytherin Discrediting Scheme had grown and soon involved half of righteous Gryffindors. Even Hermione went along and suggested quite useful tracing charms that she discovered in the library. I took up the spy duties eagerly. Draco Malfoy was easy to spy on: he loved to draw attention and his presence in every premise could not pass unnoticed.

I began to record his day-to-day activities. By the end of the first week I learnt his schedule by heart, I could recite his favorite dinner menu, I would recognize his handwriting among thousand of parchments. In the evening I used my Invisibility Cloak to sneak into Slytherin dorms and eavesdrop on him and his friends.

I knew the exact moment when I began watching Draco Malfoy, but I did not know when I began to like what I saw. Somehow my task became a habit along the way, I looked forward to finding him in the halls, his arrogant pose, his drawl did not seem annoying to me anymore. Habit grew into sympathy, sympathy into reluctant admiration. He had some natural grace, some subtle elegance that I would never possess. It was a pleasure to spy at Draco Malfoy.

But all good things had to come to end sooner or later. The novelty of the game eventually wore off, and Gryffindors began to grumble that Slytherins were too cautious and cunning to get caught. Probably deep inside we knew there was no Slytherin conspiracy. It was a temporary entertainment that allowed us to act upon our animosity of the rival House. And one by one, Gryffindors lost interest in tracing down Slytherins. I was probably the only one who wanted to go on, although I quitted when others did.

But no one of my fellow Gryffindors was obsessed with his object. No one went as far as to hide under his object’s bed “to check if he left his dorm at night”. No one wanted to be in his object’s bed. I did.

I did not realize this at first, either. All I knew was that Draco Malfoy could be nice and charming with anyone aside from Ron, Hermione and me, that he was a great storyteller and listener, that he was very tidy and accurate, that he was caring and loyal to his housemates, that I regretted not taking his hand back then on the train…

It was impossible to see him as an enemy after spending so much time watching him. He was a normal human boy, sometimes too arrogant and stubborn, spoilt beyond belief, but witty and charming when he wanted to be. There was no real hate between us to begin with, so the more time I dedicated to Draco-observation, the less reasons I found to dislike him. Even more so, I began, to my own dismay and surprise, like some things about him. For example, his ability to concentrate on studies was amazing. When he focused on the work, nothing could distract him until the task was completed, as if the world around him ceased to exist.

He had an astounding artistic talent, during one day I watched him play a dozen roles, easily switching from one to another. One moment he chatted and exchanged gossips with Millicent and Pansy, the next he was an example of a young emperor strolling down Hogwarts corridors escorted by his elite retinue, and then a child prodigy entered the Potions classroom, eager and thirsty for knowledge.

Thanks to my Invisibility Cloak, I was probably the only one who could see the original Draco Malfoy, the one who practiced his moves and intonations in front of a mirror, who ate more chocolate frogs than Ron, who climbed trees and swung on branches. I liked to think that no one but me could see so much, know this Draco.

And there also were some other, traitorous thoughts I did not want to acknowledge at first. I wondered how his skin would feel to touch, if he was still a virgin, why so many girls blushed and giggled when he met them in the halls… Wrong questions, things neither an enemy, nor a friend-wannabe, whom I suspected I became, should wonder about.

I began ask myself if I could at least try to get closer to him. I did not want much, just an opportunity to look at him without hiding, to talk to him. Could I do that? Possibly. Would I? That was a more difficult question. My friends did not like him, to say the least. His friends were probably not of highest opinion of me, either. To approach him would take a lot of guts and a risk of losing my friends’ sympathy. It also meant losing my self-respect, because knowing Draco’s character I had no doubt that our reconciliation would demand a significant amount of groveling and ingratiating on my part.

But hell, I was going to do it for myself. I wanted this, I wanted to be close to Draco. If I had to sacrifice something in the process, so be it.

I began to prepare the grounds immediately. Maybe this decision awoke my Slytherin side? Possibly. As soon as students, including him, returned to Hogwarts from their homes, I set my plan in action. The first step was to shatter the Golden Boy image in his eyes. I made sure that he caught sight of me several times a day. And on every occasion I would look sad and unhappy, sighing, biting my lips, not looking anyone in the eye. Whenever I “noticed” him watching me, I would give him a shy smile. I tripped a couple of times right in front of him, dropping my books and picking them up as awkwardly as possible. Whenever he made some sarcastic remarks about me, I would turn away abruptly with a hurt look. I felt that he was surprised at my behavior and did not know how to react.

But his confusion was not enough to attract him to me, so I had to try something more drastic.

By the time my next step was planned, I knew his exact route around the castle. Thursday evenings Draco always spent in the library, and the path from the Slytherin dungeons to Madam Pince’s abode included one dark and secluded corridor with a couple of cozy niches. That’s where I was waiting for him. Of course, I made sure that a glinting knife would be the first thing he saw. The torch perfectly lighted my arm with a trail of blood and the knife I was clutching. After half an hour of waiting I heard footsteps, approaching, slowing down and suddenly coming to a halt.

“Potter? Why are you lurking here, all al…?” he did not finish, noticing the blood on my arm.

I raised my eyes, let out a frightened gasp and quickly hid both hands behind my back, making sure that he had a glimpse of a blade I was holding. I could see shock and disbelief in his eyes. Perfect. I stepped back, turned from him and hastily retreated. I was sure he would come to the right conclusions. Maybe cutting was not widespread in the wizarding world, but he could ask Muggle-born Slytherins about the meaning.

There was a risk that he would run off to one of the Professors. Then I would have to tell them that this was one more of his attempts to slander me. I healed the cut with a simple spell already.

It took Draco two days to obtain information about cutting and approach me. Draco came to me when I was exiting Transfiguration classroom and demanded to meet him after dinner in the Northern tower. I agreed. When I arrived to the place, he was already there. He was so serious and pale that I felt an urge to laugh. It was funny to listen to my rival trying to reason with me and explain how dangerous cutting was. I did not expect that. What I waited for was an attempt at blackmail, a mockery, but Malfoy was really trying to save me…

I was almost ashamed about this deception. He was making an effort to save a guy he despised and mercilessly teased for so long, and what was I doing? Playing a role of a psycho? Maybe I should explain to him that this was a joke, just a trick to attract his attention. No, I should not. I put too much work into this to risk everything I gained at that point.

Draco was very proud by nature, and were he to find out about my lie, I doubted he would take the truth lightly. It could easily ruin my chances for good.

So I gave him the prepared version: a tragic story of the Boy Who Was Lost, who had no real friends and no purpose in life since the Dark Lord was defeated. It was quite close to the truth, I did feel lonely and useless from time to time since I had defeated Voldemort, weakened by the poison Snape had managed to slip him, - who could have guessed back then that I would miss the old maniac? - although I was not that desperate, of course.

Draco listened very attentively, and I could see sincere compassion in his eyes. It felt nice, to be so close to him and not to be afraid of getting hexed. It was the first time we really talked. I left happy and excited. This went much, much better than I expected. Maybe I would not even need to give him my diary with suicidal thoughts – an idea I entertained for a while.

Draco stopped teasing me. During our accidental encounters in the course of next few weeks he mostly ignored me, or at least pretended to. Once I attempted to smile at him, and he... well, to say that he smiled back would mean to exaggerate, but the corners of his mouth definitely twitched.

A week later the Slytherin caught up with me while I was walking a street at Hogsmeade. He started talking and somehow we ended in a little café. I could not remember afterwards what we had ordered there. All my attention was concentrated on my companion. The conversation was of no significance to me either. The important fact was that this was the first time since our days at Hogwarts had started that Draco voluntarily approached me with no intention to tease or insult.

Probably it was the crucial moment in our relationship. We never talked about putting a stop to our rivalry, about possibility of friendship between us; we just buried the war hatchet. From now on nothing was stopping me from waving my hand whenever I noticed a blond head in the halls, I had no problem with asking him to explain my Potions homework, or inviting him to fly around the school grounds. Draco Malfoy could stop in the hall to chat with me, and I laughed at his jokes and clapped him on the shoulder. Slytherins did not mind me, they did not even object to my presence in their common room. Apparently anyone who was considered worthy by Malfoy was easily accepted.

Gryffindor was another case. My friends were surprised and hurt by my behavior. Harry Potter, the Epitome of Goodness, was spending time with Draco Malfoy! At first I played stupid. Whenever they confronted me in yet another desperate attempt to open my eyes, I would smile apologetically, shrug and say that I did not believe in his evil nature, that I could see a hope for him. As if I cared what his nature was. He was perfect in my eyes. I did not want “to convert him to the Side of Light”, I simply wanted him. But I never explained this to anyone. Why bother? It was my right to choose whom I should spend my time with. And this explanation was sufficient for my friends to shrug helplessly and step aside.

I had all winter holidays to myself. Ron and Hermione had already passed the stage of embarrassment about leaving me alone at school. They had their own lives to live, and I did all I could to prove to them that it was all right for me to have some time to myself. Enough time to think about my feelings and come to a decision. I loved my friends dearly, but I would not ask their opinion on this. I did not need Ron’s attempt to turn it into a joke and Hermione’s dash for a book on dark curses. This was mine and mine alone. If I felt something for Draco Malfoy, it was not up to my friends to judge me. And it seemed that I did feel something totally opposite to the old animosity, something like... attraction?

I came to this conclusion gradually, and it was not a shocking discovery. The problem of my sexuality did not bother me much. I had enough prejudices in my life thanks to Dursleys. I would not allow anyone to harass me if I preferred the same gender. Besides, Draco was the only person I was seriously attracted to, and I just was not interested in exploring other opportunities.

It became my special privilege, my sacred right, the right to watch and study Draco Malfoy as nobody else would. Perhaps my love grew from this possessiveness? I felt as if this Draco was only for me, and the idea of Draco being mine seemed quite enjoyable. And the word "mine" extended in my fantasies much farther than watching. What would it feel like to touch him, press my mouth to his, feel his lips opening to let me in? What would it feel to lower him onto bed, to unwrap him of his clothes as a special present? What would it feel to explore his body with my hands as a Braille book, to enter him, to hear him cry out, only for me? I was obsessed with these questions, with pictures my sinful imagination so eagerly provided. Could I have it all? Would I ever find courage to go for it?

The more I thought about it, the more my self-assurance grew. I was romantically and sexually attracted to Draco Malfoy, and my night- and daydreaming proved it. I was right when I decided not to share this new revelation with my friends. They would never understand this.

I did not know what Draco’s reaction would be if he heard about my feelings. I seriously doubted I could simply approach him and confess. Even if he accepted me to a certain degree, he would never take this lightly.

In the seventh year Hermione went to Bulgaria for a students’ exchange program. It was obvious that the main attraction for her was the certain Bulgarian Seeker who was tenaciously sending her invitations for the whole past year. Maybe this persistence in pursuing our crushes was an all Seekers’ trait? Sooner or later, Hermione had to relent.

Ron took Hermione’s decision as a personal insult and refused to acknowledge her existence for the next few months. Eventually he came to terms with her “betrayal”. Fleur Delacour’s reappearance at Hogwarts in the capacity of Professor Binns’ assistant in the field trips, which the professor could not participate in as a ghost confined to Hogwarts walls, proved to be a very good distraction for Ron. This efficient if slightly immoral Dumbledore’s method of arousing students’ interest in the History of Magic class worked quite well for the whole male population of Hogwarts students. Even I found myself spending more time at writing essays to earn Fleur’s praising smile, in spite of my infatuation with Draco Malfoy.

Ron still remembered to nurse his offence once in a while. I did not have a heart to tell him that it was stupid to ignore the girl who liked him for several years and then act as an abandoned lover when she got tired of hanging around her oblivious friend.

Of course, I missed Hermione quite a lot, but I did not think it would be fair to “wish Viktor Krum would break his bloody neck in the next match”. Viktor sent me several letters asking for my advice before buying presents for his beloved, and I could see that he had been very serious about this relationship. I was truly glad that Hermione found someone who really cared for her. She deserved to be happy, and if her happiness was with this Bulgarian, I could live with this. Maybe she would even persuade him to play for the Quidditch team of England eventually. She could be quite persuasive when she wanted, after all. It would be fun to see Ron torn between righteous anger at Viktor and impulse to cheer for his national team.

It was not very easy for me, as well. It felt so strange not to have Hermione around. She always gave our small group a feeling of completion, but, as it usually happened, I did not know how much we would be missing until she was away. Somehow both Ron and I were used to this balance of a group of three, the balance in which whenever two began to argue, the third person could put a stop to a quarrel. Now there would be no negotiator for us, no one to pester us about finishing our homework, to warn us about the dangerous consequences of the next adventure, to lend a helping hand when we were stuck in our studies.

Ron understood that as well as I did. We both subconsciously began to act very cautious around each other, avoiding any possible conflicts. Inevitably it drove us apart with time. If anyone asked, each of us would argue that we are still best friends, but it definitely did not feel this way anymore.

My fixation on Draco did not help the situation either. Ron, the kind soul, could not demand from me to drop the attempts to “reform Malfoy”. He considered it a hopeless task in the beginning, but later on began to show certain interest in the prospect and several times even grudgingly invited Draco to play chess with him. I appreciated the gesture, knowing how much effort this cost Ron.

And that was how my remaining time at Hogwats was spent: I was in Draco’s company as much as possible, returned to my friends and lied, lied, lied… I lied to everyone, and I did not care what they would make of it. Only Draco’s opinion mattered.

Of course, I lied to him too and felt guilty about it. In fact, each time he asked me about my health, I felt as if I was betraying his trust. The only comforting thought was that eventually he would know the real me better and maybe even like me. It would just take some time. And sacrifices. Like Quidditch.

The last Quidditch match was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and I knew I could not catch the Snitch. Our Quidditch captain would probably skin me alive, but I could not. We did not lose the Quidditch Cup, when Draco caught the Snitch, the Slytherin team was too far behind, even 150 points would not save them. Our victory did not save me from disappointed, almost betrayed looks from my housemates, but it was all worth it in the long run. One glance at Draco’s happy face was enough of a reward. He looked as if he could not believe it himself, he caught the Snitch in the game against Harry Potter!

There was a moment when his euphoria was replaced by concern. I felt his stare and read the inevitable unspoken question in his eyes: was my depression at fault? What if he won only because I was not trying very hard? I shook my head slightly, denying the assumption. Draco visibly relaxed and went back to the more Slytherin-fitting behavior, obviously choosing the more pleasant theory: that he was as good a Seeker as I. Mission accomplished.

I found out very fast that my plan of gaining Draco’s attention had certain disadvantages. Draco liked to be in charge, and my “vulnerability” boosted his confidence allowing him to act protective and commanding around me. Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined Draco approaching me in the Great Hall to inquire if I had a headache that morning or why I was not eating… It was embarrassing, especially looks from my housemates. Thankfully it was not in Draco’s nature to spend his time in constant worries about anyone but himself, and this stage passed soon enough.

Eventually he got used to my company. He was probably surprised at first that I never turned down his offers, no matter what he suggested: studying in the library, walking, flying… Then he accepted this as a given fact. Harry Potter was a friend of Draco Malfoy and preferred his company to anybody else’s.

I wondered at first why Draco was so eager to accept me. I expected animosity and doubt, at least in the beginning. But I did not take into account his vanity and self-confidence. He saw what he wanted - a suffering hero, lonely and needing his help. And I was more than willing to give it to him. I was so proud of myself and my ingenious plan at the time. I, Harry Potter, tricked his Highness Draco Malfoy! I got his attention, his care. What else could I ask for? Well, I would not mind if he let me hold his hand now and then, if I could kiss Draco on a cheek without facing a danger of receiving a punch in the face, if he smiled at me a bit more often… Yeah, right.

I was wooing Draco as some medieval knight would court his dame, but back then I never stopped to think: was he interested in finding special someone? The conclusion I came to was not very satisfying.

If Draco wanted ever to “settle down”, he surely hid it well. So far, in two years of attentive observation, I did not see any girl towards whom he expressed more than slight interest. Every object of his attention had to meet certain requirements, like aristocratic parentage, pleasant looks, good reputation and popularity among other students. If a particular girl was not “in demand”, she would have no chance with Draco.

Several times I myself participated in the selection process, with studying pictures, interrogating fellow students about the girl’s background etc. If the results of the research were satisfactory, Draco approached the chosen. Admittedly, he was pretty good at courting and never failed, no matter how much I secretly wished for that. The first few experiences were especially painful for me, because every moment I expected to hear of an engagement. It was one thing to be close to the one I liked and know that he was unavailable, and absolutely another to know that he preferred somebody else.

It took me some time to notice the never-changing pattern of dating that repeated itself again and again. I realized that Draco was more interested in the preparation stage than in reaping the fruits. There was no girl to last with Draco longer than a month; as soon as the affair lost its novelty he grew disappointed and bored. It appeared that Draco found it beneath his dignity to pursue a long-term relationship with anyone.

Draco explained it with his asexuality, quite an unconvincing explanation in my opinion, but very efficient and absolutely irrefutable when he used it as an excuse at the breakup stage. None of his dates could argue his firm assurance that there was no point in continuing a relationship when one of the partners was not sexually attracted to the other any longer. There were tears and bitter words, but never an attempt to “try again”.

Draco’s policy left me worried when I pondered my own perspectives, but at least I did not have to be anxious about any girl taking the place I wanted for myself.

When Draco expressed his wish to enter AAAA, the Aberville Ancient Arts Academy, I almost lost him. I knew for a long time that he had no intention to play Quidditch seriously, he really was not that much of a fan of this game, and his family would never allow him to waste himself in sport. So I abandoned my dreams of becoming a professional player. Joining a team would mean never-ending practices, long-term worldwide tours, in other words, parting with Draco. It was out of question.

On the other hand, AAAA was a very old institution that accepted only purebloods. Of course, they would never admit that they pursued anti-Muggle-borns policy, but everybody knew that only wizards from old, famous and rich aristocratic families were allowed. The AAAA authorities motivated their preferences by the theory that ancient arts of magic could be comprehended only by those who “carried this magic in their blood”. A very lame and vague explanation, in my opinion. Ron could probably enter the Academy if his family had enough money to pay for his education. I was almost sure that I had no chance and began to explore the district around the Academy village in search of job vacancies.

There were other educational institutions for wizards, and Draco clearly had to choose the one that was almost unreachable for me! Although there was nothing surprising in his choice. Unlike Muggle institutions, educational organizations for wizards did not provide any general education, rather concentrating on a particular form of magical arts. Most of them were quite liberal when it came to accepting Muggle-borns, so it was only natural that Draco’s parents wanted him to choose the one that would allow him to stay in adequate company.

But somehow Draco took into his head that I really wanted to study there and that he would get bored without having me around. The latter was probably the crucial factor for his further actions. I got to witness what happened when Draco wanted something. He made me study my genealogy and helped me to compose a lengthy letter to the Academy governing body with detailed history of Potters’ bloodline. I stopped him at the point when he was about to prove that Merlin was my ancestor. Unbelievable as it was, he talked Professor Snape into writing a short report about my heroic deeds at school. This took a lot of editing on Draco’s part, mostly consisting of deleting such epithets as “ungrateful”, “presumptuous” and “imprudent”. Seeing that the governors were still in doubt, he persuaded his father to send them a recommendation letter. If anyone had told me a few years ago that one day Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape would write recommendations for me, I would have had a good laugh at this. It seemed impossible that Draco managed to persuade them. Or maybe not. I was captured after three weeks’ watch; they spent several years under his charm.

Anyway, I ended up entering the Academy with Draco. If I had considered Hogwarts well protected, then this institution was absolutely unreachable for mere mortals. To get into these walls or even get a glimpse of the structure, one would have collect special permissions for at least half a year. Once accepted, the students had no trouble entering and leaving the grounds, but no one else, not even their relatives, was allowed inside. Draco and I spent several works polishing our Apparition skills, a requirement each student had to meet. Students Apparated onto the Academy’s territory, any intruder who was not included into the Academy’s lists would end up splinched.

The organization of classes also differed. From the very beginning we had to choose our field of study and all courses we would take depended on it. Draco selected Alchemy without hesitation. His passion for potions-making did not fade away with time as I hoped. So I was stuck with potions again. The idea of choosing another specialization did not occur to me. It would be stupid to let Draco out of sight after following him so far.

Two years later we were in the same positions: friends, partners, roommates. Anything but not what I dreamed of. I never found courage to confront Draco and tell him about my feelings. I was too used to his presence in my life to risk total rejection. I still felt the yearning, but now it was not as urgent as before. I knew my place by now. I was a nice guy to spend time with, to discuss future life plans and debate on advantages and disadvantages of implementing an election system in the Ministry of Magic and polygamy as a means to bring variety into one’s sex life… Yes, Draco never dropped the “people-are-meant-for-greater-things-than-primitive-copulation” philosophy. Now he was at the stage of advocating dating with several women simultaneously for the diversity reasons.

That evening I felt at peace with universe. There was something comforting in simple lying on a sofa and watching my roommate. Draco was standing in front of a mirror and brushing his hair. In my opinion, his looks were impeccable, but best friends are not supposed to say such things to each other. Besides, I liked to watch him. There was something hypnotizing in the way he arranged and rearranged his hair…

“Why are looking at me like this? If you were somebody else, I would believe that you have a crush on me!” he laughed.

Words slipped from my tongue before I gave them a second - or even a first - thought. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh really? I am flattered,” he pressed his left hand to his chest theatrically and turned around to look at me, obviously expecting this to turn into another one of our flippant teasing dialogues. The smile slipped off a bit when he did not find an anticipated smile on my face. Few moments of total silence followed, and I watched as understanding mixed with horrified astonishment reflected on his face. He was always good at catching those undertones while talking to girls and checking if they were interested in him.

“It was not a joke, was it?” he asked at last. The question sounded cautious, as if he still expected that there was a catch in my words.

I shook my head.

Draco slowly lowered his right hand that until this moment was frozen in the midair. “Since when?”

“Since I was sixteen.”

His eyes widened and he seemed to stop breathing for a second. “A-all right. And you are telling me this now… why?”

I had no good answer to that and replied honestly. “It seemed a good time. You asked.”

He went silent again. I also had no idea how to continue this weird talk, so I left several minutes later for my room.

I was not feeling as nervous and worked up about confessing a secret I kept inside for about four years as I thought I should be. Maybe I waited long enough not to worry about the consequences, long enough to know that there was nothing to hope for. There were several dozens of scenarios of The Talk in my head, and I had just chosen the dumbest, “accidental slip of tongue”.

I wondered why Draco did not hex me and kick out of the apartment right away. After all, he was the one paying for it. I did not like the fact that I did not share his expenses on it, but all the money from my safe at Gringotts would not be enough to cover even half of the annual rent. Draco did not mind that. He said that as I took care of meals, dishes and laundry, he could save on a house elf. I found this remark a bit insulting, but even a Gryffindor would learn to control his temper after spending several years with Draco Malfoy.

It took him two hours to muster his courage and burst into my room. I already switched off the light, but did not fall asleep, of course. Nervous or not, I knew that sleep was out of question for me for a next couple of days. I even found it hard to close my eyes for a second.

“Well, now what?!” he started from the doorway. “Are you happy now?”

Draco did not choose the best way to start a conversation, but I chose to let it go. After all, I could not expect a guy who had just heard out his friend’s love confession to make a lot of sense.

“No,” I replied sincerely.

“And why not?” he demanded. “You just managed to turn our world upside down! Wasn’t this your intention all along?”

“No, it wasn’t. You asked, I answered. As simple as that.” How strange. Every time I played this conversation in my head, I imagined that I would be a wreck and he will act calm and reasonable.

He took a deep breath. “Tell me at least: why now? You say that you were used to… fancy me when we were at school, we’ve been living side by side for several years, we see each other every day. And today, all of a sudden, you confess such a thing!”

“It seemed as good a time as any.” I repeated. I really ought to give him a better explanation than this, so I went on. “I don’t know why, all right? I just felt that I wouldn’t be able to find any more excuses to stay by your side much longer. So there was no point in hiding it anymore.”

Draco sat on my bed. It relieved me a little. At least he was not so disgusted by me that he would avoid my closeness. But what he said next made me tense again. “Excuses? What excuses?” Damn! He was not supposed to pay attention to this! Well, it was too late to retreat.

“Come on, Draco, didn’t you ever wonder why I asked McGonagall to give me permission to switch Divination for Arithmancy back at Hogwarts? Why I signed for this stupid Advanced Potions class? I hate Potions! Why I went to the Academy instead of attempting to make a career in Quidditch? Why we have the same schedule every year?”

Judging by his wide eyes and open mouth, he didn’t wonder. Maybe I should not have said all this. Poor Draco. Too many revelations for one night. I should move out from our apartment first and send him my confessions in smaller potions: one letter per week, maybe.

He opened his mouth three times before finding his tongue at last. “Are-are you implying that you were doing these things to be close to me? Because of your crush?”

“It’s not an implication, Draco,” I corrected him gently. “It’s a fact.”

“I never guessed… I thought you wanted it,” he began.

“Oh, I wanted this. I wanted everything, everything that could keep me near you,” I hurried to reassure him.

Evidently he was at a loss. So I decided to continue. “I knew you did not feel the same way, Draco. I never expected this from you. So I opted for the next best thing - your friendship. I struggled to stay close, but I realized that this wouldn’t last forever. I know it will end soon. I had to say this before I leave.”

Draco frowned. “Why? Why do you have to leave? Something happened?”

Now I stepped onto the dangerous territory. The territory that had been lately occupied by one blue-eyed brunette girl. One of those “Merlin-learned-his-first-spell-from-my-ancestor” purebloods. Dangerous territory? More like a minefield. I was not sure he had already made the decision, so there was a risk that my words would push him into this direction, something I did not want to happen. To hell with it.

“Draco, I’ve seen the ring you had bought for Linda. I know what it means. And don’t think that I was not paying attention to all your girlfriends. Linda is going to stay for a while, isn’t she? I notice how you look at her. You are serious about this girl. I don’t mind, really. But I don’t want to get in the way. Our life together is over.” Even though I thought this through a thousand times, it was not an easy thing to say out loud.

“So, you are going to move out now?”

Well, it was faster than I anticipated.

“Actually, I sort of hoped that you would give me a few days to find a suitable place. But if you feel uncomfortable with me around, I suppose I could pack tomorrow and stay in a hotel.”

“You are making it sound as if I'm kicking you out!” he sounded offended. Strange. I was prepared for shock, disgust, awkwardness, but this reaction I did not expect. Draco’s behavior tonight was completely unpredictable. He went on, indignation becoming more and more obvious in his voice. “You think you can just make a declaration and walk out, leaving me to deal with this? After four years of friendship? I thought you Gryffindors are supposed to be brave!”

Now he brought our houses into conversation. We never did that. It became our unspoken rule back at Hogwarts not to compare our houses and not to bring our housemates into quarrels. What was he trying to do? Provoke me?

“…And how dare you make assumptions about me and Linda?! You don’t know a thing about my personal life!”

Okay, this was something I could protest about. I didn’t know a thing about his personal life?! Hello, Draco, I knew everything about you. I even remembered when Linda’s birthday was! Not that I was going to remind Draco. If he forgot to congratulate her… well, even my friendly support did not extend as far as to help him with his girlfriends.

“…You will stay here until we work this mess out,” he finished the tirade I tuned out of. Now this was the Malfoy I knew. He hated when somebody made decisions for him. I should have known that he would not let me leave if I wanted that. I could go only if granted Draco Malfoy’s permission. There were times when I would rebel against this commanding and arrogant tone. But this time I was going to accept his request happily.

In the days that followed we both felt and acted around each other awkward, to say the least. Draco was watching me wearily from the corner of his eye all the time, as if he was expecting me to jump at him. Such words as "love”, “sex”, “attraction”, “relationship” were avoided like plague. Girls, as well as homosexuality, were a forbidden topic.

The atmosphere was very tense and I expected that Draco would do something. I did not know what. Blow up, ask me to leave, anything. It was his turn to make a move, but he stayed passive. More than once I caught him casting sidelong looks at me and sometimes it appeared that he wanted to speak up, but then he would turn away abruptly and the moment would pass.

Once he came home early and announced that he broke up with Linda. I said I was sorry. I knew that he expected some reaction from me since he suddenly decided to share his love experiences with me again, but did not know which one. Express my joy? Of course, this news meant that Draco was not getting married or even engaged anytime soon, as I was afraid he would. But it was not like this would give me a chance. He would find a replacement in no time. Show that I am sad? That would be hypocrisy. She was a nice-looking pureblood witch of good origin, but nothing special for my Draco. In my opinion, he could find a better match.

What did he expect? I have been watching him fall in and out of love for several years in row. Why should I be excited about another breakup? Sooner or later he would get over that “asexual” thing and decide to settle down. I could only hope that I would be able to move on after that.

I could see that he was losing patience. He began to pace the room throwing occasional glances at me. Suddenly he stopped and exclaimed, “I am free now! Isn’t this what you wanted? Your chance?”

“What chance?” I was confused.

Draco growled, turned around and rushed out of the room.

A chance? Did it mean that he wanted to give me a chance at relationship? But didn’t he know that it was not about him being “free”? It was always about him wanting me… having feelings about me… And as far as I knew, I could be his favorite old working desk. Something comfortable and reliable, always at hand, but expendable nevertheless. I did not want a bloody chance! I wanted Draco! I wanted him to want me. And this was not going to happen.

The next few days proved that I was right. Draco never came back to this “challenge”; in fact, he seemed scared that I would mention it. He had no reason to, really. What was the point in cornering Draco when he was already scared as hell? And scared he was, I could feel it. His “normal” world, the one he was used to, was crumbling down. Draco liked to know where he stood, liked to think that he knew and understood everyone and everything. He got me figured out, and now I was doing something unexpected. I wanted to find some comforting words for him, but what could I say? That I did not mean it? That it was a joke?

I was beginning to feel very bad about this whole thing. I did not want to upset Draco. Several times I felt an impulse to tell him that it was not really my fault, that I just got tired of pretending after so long. But I wisely refrained. The last thing Draco needed now was to hear my whining.

So I played by Draco’s rules and avoided all dangerous topics, hoping against all hope that this “stage” would pass. Maybe Draco’s philosophy of ignoring unpleasant things would work for me as well? It never worked before, but what if I could pretend that I was not in love with Draco Malfoy and then my feelings would just… dissolve? It worked for Draco every time. Whenever he took something into his head, it became a reality for him. The sad part was that my reality has been already based on Draco Malfoy a long, long time ago. I could not will my feelings to go away. Nor did I want to.

We settled into a routine. We were cautiously pirouetting around each other, both afraid to break tender balance. I wished I had kept my big mouth shut. Then the summer came, and Draco was to leave on vacation to some exotic place. It was a family tradition to travel together. I was not invited, of course, but this time his absence made me quite glad. Maybe we could go back to where we had stood before upon Draco’s return? If we both tried really hard to forget. Or perhaps he would finally decide to kick me out. It hurt to think about the prospect, but this would be at least some resolution. Anything was better than this dangling.

Draco was absent only for two weeks, and this was strange since his usual leave lasted no less than a month. This time, three days before my birthday he was back. He seemed slightly irritated and I assumed that his mood, as well as early return, was caused by yet another talk with his father, in other words, a heartfelt conversation about responsibilities and future.

What really surprised me was a bottle of old wine Draco brought. It appeared to be Lucius’ present for my birthday. Although a somewhat friendly or at least tolerant relationship had been established between Lucius and me, it was the first present I received from him. Whatever prompted him to give me a present? Could it be… I got cold inside. Could it be that Draco had told his father about my feelings, and this gift signified Lucius’ consolations? I looked Draco in the eyes but did not dare to ask. No, it could not be. My crush would probably be no shock for Lucius Malfoy; I always had the feeling that he was well aware of the way I felt towards his son. Several times I even expected him to say something about that, but instead he would smile at me and talk about Draco’s grades in the Academy. But I dreaded to imagine them discussing the problem of Harry Potter.

I took the bottle, making a mental note to send Lucius Malfoy a letter with gratitude. People such as Mr. Malfoy were extremely sensitive when it came to good manners.

* * * * *

I frowned, squinting my eyes even tighter, in a desperate attempt to recollect the rest of the evening. Of course, I invited Draco to share the wine with me. I had no appreciation of alcohol, but how could I miss such a chance for reconciliation of old friendship? I could remember opening the bottle, Draco bringing two goblets from a cupboard, filling his and mine. Then… then nothing. My mind was blank. Time to return to physical exercises, then.

I began with my right leg. The only positive conclusion I came to was that it was still in one piece. Other than that, I could only say that it was stiff as a board and squashed by unidentified heavy mass. I switched my attention to my left leg. The situation was a bit brighter here; albeit twisted in an absolutely uncomfortable way - how the hell had I managed to fall asleep in this position? - it was relatively free. I moved it by one inch and continued revision of my body parts. My left hand was more or less free as well, if one did not take into consideration that it was under the pillow on which my head was resting. And since any head movements were out of question, the hand was trapped. My right hand really surprised me. Unlike my leg and the entire right half of my body, it was not weighted down. It was, well… squeezed. Judging by a tight grip, it might have been an octopus.

I knew the difference between snuggling and crushing, even if I never experienced either. This undoubtedly constituted as flagrant crushing. And considering that I did not know who the crusher was, something should have been done to rectify the situation immediately. I jerked my right hand. No result. I began getting angry. This was my hand, after all. I gathered all the energy that was left in my body and repeated the action. This time the octopus yielded. As soon as I regained the trapped limb, I put it to use. In other words, I started to probe my anonymous neighbor. A short inspection allowed me to arrive at several interesting but useless conclusions. The object was warm, half-naked, half-wrapped in the sheets, and had hair on the head. It was most likely of human origin. All right, time for desperate measures. Concentrating all my willpower, I opened one eye.

The sight of someone's shoulder was not very useful in my explorations, either. My eye roamed over the view, registering a muscled back, smooth fair skin, blond hair... Wait. Blond hair? Forgetting all about my initial intention not to move my head, I bolted up, both eyes wide open now. It was not the first time I shared a bed with another male, the constant deficit of space and furniture at the Burrow had forced Ron and me many times to sleep next to each other, but to discover that I had spent a night with the person I had a crush on was totally another thing! There was also a fact that we were both naked. My abrupt move partly pulled the sheets off Draco, revealing his nakedness.

My mind chose this moment to finally register signals that my body was sending to it. I was sitting on my knees, and it hurt. It hurt to sit. I could be absolutely inexperienced in practical aspects of gay sex, but I knew what it meant if you woke up with a guy in your bed, both stark naked, and it hurt you to sit. Bloody hell. And he said that he was not gay.

The last words I said aloud, but I understood that only when a dry chuckle behind my back pierced the silence and made me jump. Damn it! I had just experienced a mental trauma and wanted to suffer through it alone. First there was an intruder in my bed - well, to be precise I was the one who had intruded into Draco's bed, but that was not the point, - then someone intruded into our apartment. The intrusion itself rather irritated than alarmed me - the wards around the apartment were keyed to let in only certain people, so I was not worried that some Death Eater wannabe broke in to check if my immunity to the Killing Curse was fading.

I whirled around, fully intending to vent my growing frustration on that person, only to discover that my guess about the intruder's identity was quite close. Not a wannabe. It was a real professional Death Eater. And the one with a good reason to perform Avada Kedavra on me for molesting his precious son.

Not that I was on really bad terms with Lucius Malfoy. Back at school, he mostly ignored me, both when he visited Draco and when Draco dragged me with him to the Malfoy Manor on vacations. Malfoy Senior, as well as Lady Narcissa and the bunch of Draco's aunts, uncles and cousins residing at the Manor, mastered the art of not noticing me to perfection. I wandered through the corridors of Draco's family house feeling as a ghost of some Malfoy ancestor, accepted but not particularly welcomed.

At the same time, no one ever said anything rude to me. It had probably something to do with the Malfoy code of honor. Draco told me once a story about one of the Malfoys falling for a Muggle girl. The guy even had the audacity to bring her into the family manor and introduce to his parents. Everyone treated her quite nicely for two weeks. Then she was caught kissing her boyfriend's brother in the parlor. I had a suspicion that this had to be a trap contrived by Romeo's loving relatives, but I did not share this thought with Draco. The stupid girl fell for it and got an unpleasant surprise when the whole family, her fiancé included, suddenly entered the parlor. Even after this all Malfoys continued to smile pleasantly at her, until her former lover ran out in tears, saying something along the lines, "I don't ever want to see you again!" The girl was immediately offered a glass of wine. Poisoned. Obviously, Malfoys' hospitality ended when the only one who wanted the girl there changed his mind.

Needless to say, I was extremely cautious with drinks and food for the rest of my stay at the Malfoy Manor.

It would not be completely truthful to say that Lucius Malfoy totally ignored me. He avoided direct communication, but more than once I felt his gaze on me, studying, inspecting. I had no idea what he was looking for or if he found it. My guess was that he asked himself what Draco was seeing in me. It was not like they needed Harry Potter to prove their loyalty to the Side of Light. Malfoys' substantial donations and spirited speeches about tolerance and kindness towards Muggles worked fine on their own. Hence there really was no necessity for Draco to befriend me and bring me home so often. At least that's how I interpreted Malfoy Senior's glances.

And now there I was, sitting in Draco's bed, naked, staring into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. Well, not really staring into his eyes, because I would not be able to distinguish eyes on his face without my glasses on. The only reason I recognized him at all was the long blond hair. I bent to the side, lowering my hand to the floor and fumbling about. Where were they? The blurred figure in front of me leaned forward, holding out something to me. Oh. Right. I took the glasses and slid them onto my nose, just in time to catch a smug smile on Malfoy's lips.

Smug? But why would he...? Almost as if he expected to see us like that. Then the realization struck. Yesterday. Wine. The present. My eyes flicked to the table, with a bottle, two goblets, one of them knocked down, and a plate of biscuits. I looked back at Malfoy, incredulously, and he nodded.

"Very good, Harry. Here's your reward for quick thinking." He held out his hand to me once again, now with a small vial in it.

I could not help remembering the fate of a poor Muggle girl, but it just would not do to refuse whatever Lucius Malfoy offered. If it was some sort of favor to me, my refusal to accept it would be taken it as an insult. I spent enough time with Draco to find out that every service rendered by a Malfoy had to be taken with deepest gratitude.

And if it was a poison, then I did not mind either. It would help me escape both the ungodly headache and Malfoy Junior's wrath when he opened his eyes. If there was one thing I wanted to avoid, it was the look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes. Even if he was open-minded enough to tolerate me after my confession, this he would never forgive.

I downed the contents of the vial, quickly gulping the bitter liquid. Definitely poison. Would Lucius be considerate enough to drag my corpse out of the bed before his son woke up?

The headache dissolved. I turned my head to the sides, waiting for pounding to return, but it did not.

"A very efficient remedy for hangover," Malfoy remarked. "It is hard to talk to a person who is unable to concentrate on the conversation because of pain." He was speaking as a man who had the first hand knowledge of those things. I suppressed an involuntary shudder.

"So..." I dared to speak up. "You set this up, didn't you?"

Malfoy nodded. "Someone had to do something, don't you think, Harry? Otherwise you would be tiptoeing around each other for ages. And, frankly speaking, I just got tired of Draco's incessant whining about not knowing what to do with you."

What was that? Some kind of practical joke? He was supposed to scream at me, to throw me out of the apartment or challenge me to a duel for defiling his son. "But... but don't you mind? I mean, me and- and your son, and this..." I nodded in the direction of my still sleeping companion.

"I never had homophobic tendencies, if that is what you are asking. My only constant worry was that Draco would not be able to find himself a suitable life partner, and I am glad to see that life has proven me wrong."

Life partner?

Draco decided to choose this moment to join us. A groan muffled by a pillow indicated his return to the world of living. Unlike me, he opened his eyes at once and immediately took in the surroundings: the bed, me, only half-covered with a sheet, and Lucius Malfoy. Instead of letting out an anticipated scream, Draco sucked in his breath, his eyes widening impossibly at the sight of his parent, and tugged the sheet upon himself. Which was not very fair in my opinion, because there was only one sheet, and if he decided to wrap himself into it, I would be left naked. The lower part of his body was already covered, so I clutched my end of the precious cover, determined not to surrender my possession. Draco, obviously not quite realizing what he was doing, tried to jerk the sheet away from my grip, his gaze still glued to Malfoy Senior. The battle went on for a minute or two, until I hissed, "Draco!" and my shocked companion came to his senses. He stopped tugging, but did not release the conquered piece of cover.

His father smiled benevolently. “I should say it is about time for you to wake up. I was worried why were you taking so long.”

Draco flinched and rushed forward with explanations. “It’s-it’s nothing, dad. Nothing happened, really, I swear. We-we just drank too much, and fell asleep, and…”. He quickly glanced at me. "I told you about Harry, I knew he would try something sooner or later, he is attracted to me, so..." He told his father about my feelings?!

I interrupted before Draco laid all blame on me. "Draco, there was something in the wine that made us lose control. Whatever happened, it's not completely my fault. I think we could simply forget this and..."

"Nobody is asking what you think! You got into my bed, as you've always wanted to. Now just shut up and stay away from me!"

The next second Draco found himself on the floor, sent there with a shove of my foot. I could be in love with the git, but that did not mean that he was at liberty to insult me like this. Draco hastily scrambled back onto the bed, wrapped himself into the sheet again and glared at me.

"What?" I raised my eyebrows innocently. "I thought you wanted to be as far away from me as possible."

"Children, children," Mr. Malfoy interfered, sounding amused. "Shouldn't you be more friendly towards each other after a romantic night?" Both of us ignored the question.

"First, this is my bed," Draco snarled through gritted teeth. "Second, I am not gay. Third, I am not interested in you. Fourth, nothing happened. Fifth, nothing ever will happen. I have obligations to my family, and I will fulfill them."

Lucius Malfoy spoke up again. "This is quite noble of you, Draco, but what kind of obligations that have anything to do with you and Harry are you talking about?"

Draco suddenly looked lost. "But-but I am supposed to produce an heir."

"Well, thank you for your care, Draco, but I think I am perfectly capable of continuing the Malfoy line myself. In fact, your mother and I are already working in that direction."

Draco blinked several times and babbled, "I thought I... I am your son and..."

"As my son, you are financially provided for two or three extremely luxurious lifetimes. Your parents did not bring you into this world for breeding purposes only, as you make it sound. I noticed the lack of inclination on your part to create a family a long time ago. Right now I only want you to find someone suitable for you, be happy and let your family sigh with relief." His eyes slid to me on the words "someone suitable".

Draco froze. "Dad," he started. "What he said about the wine, it was not true, right? You did not do anything to it?" His father did not bother to deny anything.

Sounding appalled, Draco exclaimed, "I can't believe this! Dad, you have been plotting behind my back!"

"Does that bother you so much?"

"YES! You are throwing me, your son, into the arms of another male!"

"Draco, quit with the melodramatics, please. This is pathetic,” admonished him Malfoy Senior. “Nobody is throwing you anywhere. I am merely pointing out the options." He ignored Draco's outraged cry "Pointing? You've drugged me and you call this pointing?!" and went on. "You have just woken up in bed, naked, with an attractive young man. I hope you are not going to play in denial about your feelings now.”

“What feelings?” I tried not to sound too interested.

“No, no feelings,” Draco shook his head vehemently. “Don’t listen to this, just go take a shower or something. You are all sticky.”

I felt offended. “Hey, you are as sticky as I am!”

The realization dawned on all three of us simultaneously. I felt my ears beginning to burn. Malfoy Senior let out an exasperated sigh. Draco blanched and bolted to the bathroom, pausing only to grasp some clothes from the floor.

I was still feeling a bit groggy, so I made no effort to stop him. Instead I rearranged the sheet around me and looked at Lucius Malfoy. After all, if the man did not feel embarrassed upon finding us together in bed, why should I be nervous about it? He did not kill me on the spot, and that was a good sign. Or maybe there was a slow-acting poison in that vial? Lucius Malfoy tolerated my presence in the capacity of Draco’s friend, but could he really want me as his son's "life partner"? Perhaps all this was some sort of trick to make Draco reconsider my trustworthiness, to open his eyes and get rid of me?

His eyes did not reveal anything. I decided to pretend that this scene was a normal occasion, and there was nothing wrong about our compromising positions. After all, I could just stick to Draco’s version of drinking too much and falling asleep - accidentally - in one bed. Maybe I would persuade Draco that nothing happened and we would go back to as we were...

The silence continued, and I had to break it. Besides, there was this comment I was curious about.

“Sir?” I tried hesitantly. “What did you say about Draco’s feelings?”

“Hmm,” Lucius studied me thoughtfully. “Under normal circumstances I would suggest you to ask Draco about this, but seeing that you skipped the declaration stage and went straight to the action, I will take the liberty to speak for my uncommonly shy son.”

He leaned back onto the back of the armchair he was occupying and went on. “Draco always worried me. His indifference towards decent girls his mother brought home was something I preferred to explain with his natural seriousness. Multiple short romances ending in dramatic breakups and pools of tears at the doorstep of our Manor made me change my mind. I decided to give him time to choose. Now, several years later, he is still claiming to be waiting for the right girl.”

Mr. Malfoy stood up and began to pace the room. “I am tired. I’ve tried everything and everyone to concentrate Draco’s attention on. But it is all useless. There is nothing constant in his life,” he came to a halt and stared at me with hard eyes, “Except you.”

“Er,” this was the first time I was seeing Lucius Malfoy so emotional. “But, if I am allowed to ask, sir, why are you so worried about Draco’s love life? From what I’ve heard, he is not expected to produce offspring.”

The man shook his head impatiently. “I am not worried about offspring. I can take care of that myself, thank you very much. But Draco is becoming irresponsible! Do you remember the scandalous affair in his sixth year at Hogwarts? The girl ran after him through the whole Hogsmeade in tears. Do you know how much it cost me to keep this story from appearing in Daily Prophet? How long I had to plead with her Muggle parents not to rouse a scandal? Draco was stupid enough to buy her a ring! If it was not for my interference, he could be married to a daughter' of a Muggle accountant right now! And it was only one of many cases. Sometimes I get a feeling that the boy is doing this on purpose, either to draw attention to himself or to prove his independence.”

Now that I thought about that, I began to realize why Draco returned in such a dark mood after each meeting with his father. Mr. Malfoy could be very harsh if he was displeased with something and undoubtedly he gave his son a very thorough tongue-lashing after each of Draco's love affairs. I also understood the reason why Mr. Malfoy had cut his son’s allowances. Clearly he wanted to have at least some form of control over Draco.

“And then you appeared,” his voice acquired velvety undertones. “From an Enemy No.1 you suddenly turned into the Best Buddy. At first I thought that you approached Draco in order to spy on me.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but his hand raised in the air stopping me.

“Then I began watching and noticing… things. How you were looking at my son when you thought no one was paying attention to you, how you laughed at every joke he ever made - and I know my son does not have a very good sense of humor, - how you would loiter around with a dull look whenever he ignored you. It was evident that you would do anything for him.”

I could feel my face heating up. Was I really so obvious?

“I always wondered how could Draco not see all these symptoms of love sickness. But what surprised me even more was your reluctance to take the matter in your hands.”

“You don’t understand. Draco is… is not gay,” I forced out. “He is…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Lucius interrupted me tiredly. “He is “asexual”. I heard this crap from him about ten thousand times. Don’t tell me you believe it.”

“Well,” I admitted. “I did not take it seriously in the beginning. I tried, I really tried to prove him wrong. All those provocative clothes, romantic dinners, accidental touches. But it does not work. I-I think that maybe he was telling the truth. I am just wasting time…” This was true. Gathering the remnants of my willpower and self-confidence, I spent the days after my confession thinking of new ways of drawing Draco's attention. Too bad that Draco's vast sexual experience made him immune to everything I considered appealing. Even black leather trousers combined with a vague hint of a date - my last resort - did not work. I ended up sitting three hours on the bench in a neighboring park like an idiot, before returning to the apartment to play the role of someone who just spent a romantic evening with a mysterious partner.

“Oh, Draco can be quite persuasive when he wants to. I bet he even believes in all this nonsense himself.”

"I suppose he haven't met the right person yet, sir."

"I don't believe in "right person", "soulmates", "true love" and other crap. There is Draco and there is you. He is already hesitating, as I gathered from his babble."

I could not believe my ears. "Really?! But he does not like me this way. When I told him how I felt, he was so shocked..."

"Yes, yes," Mr. Malfoy impatiently waved his hand. "I heard all about this. But do you know what his first question was after he dumped all this out on me? He asked whether I thought that he had been too harsh with you. And then all those times before, when he asked me what present to give to you, complained about you being subdued or insisted on taking you to our family gatherings. Maybe Draco does not realize it himself, but you already are very close to him, closer than anyone ever was before. And he cares. I assure you, Harry, that right now his largest fear is to lose you."

He rose from his seat. "My family means the world to me, and I will go to any lengths to ensure its peace and safety. If the best candidate for my son is a male, I don't mind. Malfoys have a long history, you would be surprised with what creatures - and I mean creatures - we made pacts in the past. Believe me, you are not the worst option. Just take good care of Draco and we will get along excellently. Unfortunately, I have to leave you now. I would advise you to avoid raising your voice. Draco is going to have a remarkable headache after this." He nodded at the table with the bottle.

A bit stunned with the fact that Lucius Malfoy entrusted his son's fate to me like that, I managed only to squeeze out, "Why can't you give him the potion that you gave me?"

Lucius Malfoy smirked. "Consider it a small punishment for all the time I wasted solving his problems." And with that he Disapparated, leaving to deal with Draco who, as I gathered, was now my responsibility. Great.

The responsibility reentered the room ten minutes later, dressed in his brown trousers and my blue T-shirt, a color combination that Draco would without question find atrocious were he in in the right state of mind. Still, he was fully clothed, and I was still sitting in the bed, covered with a single sheet. Without clothes I felt vulnerable and defenseless. Amazing how much difference presence or absence of clothes could make.

Draco looked around the room, probably making sure that his father was gone, then approached the bed and cautiously perched on the edge, establishing a safe distance from me.

We sat like that for a while, both avoiding looking into each other's eyes. The silence was stretching, and I grew more and more uncomfortable with every minute. I could take fury, coldness, hysterics, but I was not sure I could cope with hate. What if this was really the last straw? Suddenly Draco spoke up, "You do realize that this does not make me gay, do you? If I incidentally spent a night with you, it does not mean I will be doing this on regular basis! You were the bottom, anyway."

My jaw dropped. That was his only worry? Who was the bottom? For a moment I wondered how he could have known who had been on top, unaware of my physical symptoms. Then I felt insulted. "If I have chosen to be a bottom, then you can write it off to a normal courtesy."

"Courtesy?! You don't even remember what happened!"

"Perhaps it was a natural instinct. I was subconsciously trying to make this as easy for you as possible," I insisted.

Draco snorted. "You simply did not know what to do. I am the one with experience here, have you forgotten this already?"

"I'll let you know that I have a very good theoretical knowledge of intimacy between men. The fact that I am in pain is another proof that you had no idea of what you were doing!"

Smug expression on Draco's face was immediately replaced with an alarmed one. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. "Just a tear. I already cast a healing charm while you were in the bathroom. And it is not the point! The point is that your inexperience made me bleed."

"It was not inexperience! I was drugged, I did not have the full control of my impulses. Besides, sex with females and sex with males are very similar."

"How would you know? You had sex with only one male, and you don't even remember what happened!" This conversation was becoming ridiculous. Instead of deciding where we should go from here, we were arguing which one of us would be a better top. Wait. Maybe this was Draco's purpose all along? Turn the talk into some stupid argument and then fall out with me completely.

I gulped and began, "Maybe... maybe I'd better leave and give you some time alone? I know this was not something any of us wanted..." I stood up, not listening to Draco's reply, and went to the door, draped in a sheet like some Roman aristocrat in a toga. Our friendship was clearly over, and i found myself wishing it had never begun.

"Wait? Where are you going? We haven't finished yet!"

"Yes, we have," I answered without turning around. "I don't see the point in fighting about some incident that won't repeat."

"Stop. Just stop, all right?" Pleading notes appeared in Draco's voice, and I looked over my shoulder. Draco rose from the bed and stepped to the table. His next move shocked me to the core. He took the bottle and made a swig from it.

"Draco, what are you doing?" I cried out.

"What does it look like to you? I am thirsty and I need a drink."

"But this is your father's wine, this..."

Draco looked at me again, his eyes strangely glistening. "Have you ever head of Borgias?"

"Er, I think so." This was indeed an unexpected question. What kind of drug had Lucius Malfoy put in there?

Draco went on. "You see, they were quite good experts at poisoning. They could make combinations that killed their enemies in one, two days, or even a week. But there was one problem they could not solve: how to give poison to someone extremely suspicious, who dranks and ate only what the hosts did? And then they invented a marvelous thing: false-bottomed goblets. All you had to do was put the poison in the small space between the real and the false bottoms, and it would permeate into the wine through tiny chinks. And the oh so prudent guests would drink exactly the same wine as Borgias did and leave with poison in their stomachs."

No. This could not be. He did not. But I was well aware that it could and he most likely did. "What for?" I asked in a strangely hoarse voice.

Draco lowered his eyes, as if embarrassed. "I was not sure, you see. And I could not ask you to experiment, because if it did not work out and you would still want to try again.. So I decided to drug you to avoid any problems."

But of course. Bad past experience at breakup scenes. "So you and your father arranged my rape, technically speaking? And everything I heard from Mr. Malfoy - it was all a fluke?"

"Yes. But it was not really a rape. You did want to have sex with me, drugged or not," the old arrogance slipped into his tone again. "I apologize about this little father & son spectacle. We did not plan to tell you at all, but I thought it would be fair if you knew."

"And you remember what happened this night?" I moved into some kind of shock, just automatically clarifying the details.

"I do. I am sorry that you got hurt. I was a bit too eager, I guess. But now I see that we could... I suppose we could give it a try." At least he had the decency to look disconcerted. I got fucked by the person I was in love with and I did not remember a thing because he preferred me not to know what happened. Wonderful. I was still standing at the door, unsure if I should leave and slam the door, start another screaming match or do something else. I was also unsure what this "something else" could constitute of. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I almost did not hear Draco addressing me.

"It does not change anything. Even if I did like to sleep with you and you got slightly hurt in the process, I refuse to be the bottom."

Nice to know that Draco was still his old self. 'You are so confident I want anything to do with you, after all your confessions?"

"Don't you?" Good point.

I realized that sometime during this talk Draco had approached me, only when he purred into my ear, "Don't you want to do something with me, Harry?" He dragged his hands over my body, from shoulders to hips, and the sheet I got quite used to by that time slid to the floor.

One of Draco's hands took mine, and I was pulled to the bed. We flopped onto it, Draco swiftly wrapping around me. Then he kissed me. Perhaps I should have used some other epithet for what he was doing to me with his lips and tongue. It was undoubtedly something illegal. All right, my knowledge of kisses was limited, but this... this... it would make me forget about the existence of the rest of my body if it was not for Draco. His fingers were teasing my nipples, and his teeth were nibbling my neck when he repeated, "Have we agreed on the question of topping?"

I was incapable of giving a coherent reply at that point. "Yes, Draco... oh yes..." Damn, I knew that he had been evoking certain reactions in me for several years, but I had no idea what it would be like if my body received an equal response from him. I did not know what our relationship would be like now, but it was unquestionably better than friendship. It was a very smart decision on my part to go after Draco Malfoy, after all.

My hands and legs were already living a life of their own, trying to pull Draco upon me, as if he was a blanket I wanted to be covered with. The best part was that Draco did not seem to mind. Yeah... lower, please. Was that his tongue? He was what? Licking me?! And I should not forget about Draco's hands that travelled all over my body rather boldly. Right now one of them was under me, rubbing the small of my back in circles and moving lower. In fact, his entire body participated in this, moving incessantly, pressing, sliding up and down, pulling away and pushing me back into the bed, and the friction it created was simply delicious. Oh, if he was that good at topping, I could do with just lying like this and letting him do all those wonderful things to me.

And who said I would not be allowed to switch afterwards, when I gathered some more information? After all, if I managed to get Draco to change his mind about us - not that I really understood how, - surely I would be able to do something with this small issue?

The End