Draco Finds Jesus

Chapter 5: Angst and Gossip

When Harry finally returned to the Griffindor common room, he found most of his friends waiting for him.

'Whathappenedwhathappenedwhathappenedwhathappened?' asked Seamus, bouncing up and down by the door.

'Nothing!' Harry replied too quickly.

'Nothing?' echoed Seamus, looking excessively disappointed.

Hermione looked dubious. 'Well? Didn't he turn up? You were gone an awfully long time.'

'No, he turned up,' Harry affirmed. 'I - I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed.'

Seamus squealed. 'You can't leave me like this, Potter! I'll go insane!'

'Go?' Ginny said quietly, as Dean muttered, 'Yeah, I bet that's what Malfoy said.'

Hermione shot them a warning look. 'Of course, Harry,' she said. 'Can you just answer one thing? Did it work? Does he like you?'

'Yes,' Harry sighed. 'Hopefully he won't give us any more trouble.'

And with this, he staggered over to the stairs, head still reeling. Oh, but he'll give me some trouble tonight, he thought to himself. Barely noticing Neville and Dean forcefully restraining Seamus from following, as Hermione tutted and Ginny sat quietly, Harry slowly made his way to the boy's dormitory. As he got into bed, Ron's low voice spoke quietly, 'Worked then?'

'Yes,' Harry replied. He was on the verge of telling everything to Ron, but knowing that the other boys in the dormitory could be awake, he did not. Thinking on it later, he was glad, remembering Ron's disgust earlier on. He fell asleep suprisingly quickly - his brain seemed to have decided that going offline for a few hours was the better way of coping than endless pondering.

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At breakfast, Draco was silent. His silence reverberated around the Great Hall. He wasn't even reading. He was just sitting there, methodically going about the business of eating his breakfast, his gaze unfocused and seemingly oblivious to the world around him. Other students kept looking over to the Slytherin table, unable to place what was different in the hall this morning. The Griffindors were especially interested.

'He's still not doing anything,' reported Neville. At Hermione's instructions they were taking it in turns to look at the Slytherin table to avoid arousing suspicion. This in itself was, of course, suspicious, since they usually spent most of their time shooting filthy looks at the Slytherin table, but there *was* a reason why Hermione wasn't put in Ravenclaw, after all. Luckily no-one at the Slytheirn table noticed, being too preoccupied with Draco' silence.

'I wonder what he's thinking about,' said Ginny. Seamus choked on his orange juice.

'I'm not sure I want to know,' he exclaimed, spraying juice everywhere.

'Seamus!' Lavender shrieked. 'You've got orange juice on my top!' She dabbed frantically at it with a napkin.

'But its an orange top,' Ginny offered.

'That's not the point,' Lavender replied, as though addressing an imbecile.

'So go and change it,' Ron muttered impatiently.

'Well I suppose I'll have to,' Lavender said, glaring at Seamus. 'I just hope I'm not late for divination.'

'The stars forbid!' Dean said sarcastically.

'I'm sure the Professor would know why you were late without being told, of course,' Hermione added, innocently. Lavender looked at her sharply.

'Here, you can borrow my scarf,' Parvati offered. 'It would go beautifully with that top, and it can cover up the stain.' Eventually the affair was settled, and Ginny returned to the topic in hand.

'But what is he thinking about? I mean, is he considering the implications of his homosexuality or planning some more smiting or dreaming about Harry naked or just worried about looking him in the face?'

'Who cares,' Seamus concluded philosophically. 'Hopefully we'll get some action out of it whichever way.' Ron did not look too enthralled. Harry bowed his head to hide the blush on his cheeks.

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Draco Malfoy had a secret. As yet undiscovered by his friends or his father, he dreaded the day when they might find - those things - among his belongings. What they would do then, he did not know. He hoped he could find some excuse, deny that they were his. He had kept his secret for years, and had done a much better job of keeping it hidden than his feelings for Harry, apparently.

His secret was this:

He was addicted to some Muggle merchandise.

Specifically, bath products from Lush.

Lounging in his bubble bath (Blue Skies and Fluffy White clouds), he tried to clear his head. The essential oils were not working today - frankincense refused to make him tranquil. So much for the 'wise' men - why didn't they give Jesus some Prozac# instead? That would have been much more effective, and then maybe he wouldn't have thrown such a tantrum on the cross. If he, Draco had cried out every time *his* father had forsaken *him* he would never be silent. He chalked the question up on his list of things to ask his evangelical friend. Right there after what exactly was the deal with homosexuality in the bible. He wondered if the bible said anything about baths. Draco thought guiltily about the pink bath bomb in his stash, then corrected himself. Owning things that were pink did not make him gay, and neither did enjoying long relaxing baths. No, his mischievous subconscious piped up, snogging Harry and wanting to do a hell of a lot more, that's what makes you gay.

This was typical of the sorts of things Draco had been thinking all day. Whatever he tried to think about, it all came back to Harry. Well he didn't want to think about Harry. He wanted to think of anything but Harry, in fact. He'd moved from wondering what was for tea to considering the toilet habits of Hippogriffs, from why Catholics should be burnt at the stake to trying to remember the words to the Sorting hat's latest song. They all came back to Harry. Wondering what was for tea drifted into Harry looking gorgeous eating tea, then Draco eating tea off a gorgeous-looking Harry. The toilet habits of Hippogriffs had become Harry looking sweaty and manly tending Hippogriffs, then Draco and Harry rolling around sweatily in the hay. Burning Catholics at the stake was contextualised by Harry dressed all in black carrying a flaming torch for the stake, then Harry dressed in black leather and holding a flaming candle, teasingly dripping wax over a naked Draco. The Sorting Hat's song metamorphosed into thinking how cute Harry would look wearing nothing but the Sorting hat. In a brief, rather foolish attempt to give himself a mental cold shower, Draco tried to think about Crabbe and Goyle naked. Bad move.

'Ughg!!!!!' he cried out loud. 'Thanks Draco, I'm scarred for life.'

It was then Crabbe and Goyle decided to knock on the door. They had been having another discussion.

'Are you alright Malfoy?' Goyle began.

'Are you talking to yourself?' Crabbe interrupted.

'No!' Draco shot back. Hang on, talking to yourself wasn't gay, was it. Wasn't it a sign of eccentricity? Or possibly madness, but he was rich enough for eccentricity. 'Um. . . maybe,' he corrected. Maybe. Very authoritative, Draco, he thought. He tried to fight an image of Harry being authoritative. There was a pause outside, followed by some scuffling and 'you ask him,' 'no, you,' in low tones. Draco rolled his eyes. Eventually Crabbe spoke:

'We were . . . um . . . would you like to come out and talk to us? No? Okay. Err. . . we were wondering why you're being so quiet today.'

'A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; Ecclesiastes 3:7,' Draco replied listlessly.

'Right,' Crabbe replied uncertainly. They seemed unsure what to say to this and after some more frantic whispering and jostling left without adressing any more questions. Draco sank further into his bath. Those two were getting postiviely confrontational since he'd told them what was on his mind last time, he thought. That's why you should never tell anyone whats on your mind. Especially not when it involves them and a Lush massage bar.

He sat up dejectedly, bubbles still attached to his upper body. His mind immediately leapt to an image of Harry covered in bubbles.

'Thank God I can go to Hogsmeade again tomorrow,' he said out loud.

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# Why does Draco know about Prozac? Isn't that a bit Muggly? As a matter of fact, Prozac was originally a potion that went wrong. When a wizard took it, he lost all magical powers and became a squib immediately. Prozac potion soon ceased production, but the ingredient list found its way into a laboratory hundreds of years later, where it was somewhat ineffectually produced by Muggles who knew a lot about brain chemistry but virtually nothing about magic.