Superlatives

When Harry entered the Great Hall at dinner looking nearly pleasant, everyone wondered what had happened to cool his ire, especially given that Ron still resembled an overripe tomato. Well, everyone wondered except the Slytherins, that is, who had witnessed the afternoon's events. But they weren't about to share. After all, they had Supercool & Unaffected reputations to keep up, and the events in question involved their Supreme Overlord.

When Draco entered, by pure coincidence, just behind him, staff and student alike stopped short to watch them. Harry, noticing the change instantly, turned around, bringing him face-to-face with his nemesis. Of course, it was a bit difficult to dredge up ire for the wizard who'd, inadvertently, given him one of the best afternoons of his life. Then Malfoy sneered, and Harry remembered.

"Cat got your tongue, Potter?" Draco drawled, raising a brow.

Harry smirked. "More like a lion, actually," he replied.

The Slytherin's stormy eyes lightened briefly with well-concealed mirth, like clouds breaking for the sun. "Yes, well, one never knows when a lion might turn up," he murmured, and his words lacked their usual venom.

They sized each other up, hints of mild confusion showing on their faces. Then, remembering they had an audience, they pasted hateful glares over the confusion and beat a hasty retreat to their respective tables.

Harry chose to sit by Seamus and Dean, casting a curious glance over at Malfoy as he settled in. Maybe he'd been wrong about their ability to turn on and off their enemy status at will. What had just passed between them qualified more under the playful banter category than the seething hatred category. He pointedly ignored Ron, who was spitting nails, and engaged his more peaceable housemates in conversation.

"Mates," he greeted them calmly.

"Oi, Harry," Seamus replied. "Who got your rocks off?"

Harry flinched. "What?" he exclaimed, unable to stop his gaze from momentarily drifting to where Malfoy presided over the Slytherins.

Seamus grinned lasciviously. "Well, you look downright chipper, mate," he explained.

"He's right, you do," Dean added.

Harry blushed predictably. "No one got my rocks off," he insisted.

"Hmm, a good self-jobber, eh?" Seamus inferred. He watched Harry, who was watching Malfoy and wondering what the Slytherin would think if he heard his dorm-mate's interpretation of the afternoon's events. "I see," Seamus murmured victoriously. "Having one off at the wrist to thoughts of Malfoy, were you?"

Harry prudently began to bang his forehead against the table.

"That good, eh?" Dean couldn't help but jab.

Harry glared. "I was out flying, I'll have you know."

"That's why you look so satisfied?" Dean exclaimed incredulously. "Because you were flying?"

Seamus shook his head in despair. "Your good looks are so wasted on you, mate."

"Thanks for that," Harry muttered defensively, and then grinned. "So, I'm good-looking, am I?"

"Pillock," Seamus grunted.

"What've you two been up to this afternoon?" Harry asked.

Dean took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Arithmancy," he replied.

"Not all of us had a free to go flying, mate," Seamus added.

Harry groaned. "I'm so pleased I chose to sit with you bloody wankers tonight, I swear," he said sarcastically.

"You aren't doing this on account of us, are you?" Dean murmured worriedly, keeping his voice pitched low.

Harry shook his head vigorously, sending a wary glance at Ron, who was doing a fair impression of his Uncle Vernon. "No," he assured them. "This is about Ron's issues with me." Eyeing his friends, who were sitting just a hair too close to be purely platonic, he added, "But even if we didn't have our own issues, I'd still be brassed off about his comments."

Seamus met his gaze knowingly. "Brassed off on our behalf or yours?"

Harry sighed. "Been wondering that myself, actually."

The duo exchanged amused glances. "Well, either way, we've got your back," Dean promised.

"Or possibly, your backside," Seamus couldn't help but add.

"Seamus!" Harry yelped, blushing bright red and bursting into slightly hysterical laughter. Once again, all eyes turned toward him.

"Finding another freak to fuck?" Ron cut in, voice dripping with disgust, and, incidentally, nostrils dripping with Tapioca pudding from the dessert tray.

Harry turned to face him. "Why, are you jealous?" he challenged, determined that he would not be the one to flee the Hall this time. Going for broke, he bit his lower lip and winked at the redhead.

"GMMMARF ARRRGHHH!" Ron shouted wittily.

Harry raised a Draco-esque brow. "You want me to fuck you now? Right here at the table where everyone can see?"

Ron, having exhausted all shades of red, chose to explore the merits of purple. He leapt to his feet, screaming, "HUUEOO ROPPERT FRUKKINE IJJITT!"

"Ron," Harry began patiently, as though dealing with a pouty child. "I haven't got the handcuffs on me. They're still all sticky from the last time we used them!"

The redhead shrieked, apparently at the pain of being denied the use of said handcuffs, and dashed from the Hall. If by dashed, one implies tripping over the bench seat, planting his purple head in his plate of Tapioca, staggering over to the Hufflepuff table and spewing creamy, white goo all over its occupants, and then running face-first into the door in his frantic escape from Evil Gay Harry.

"Gryffindors," Draco sneered.