Incendium

CHAPTER SEVEN: Adventures in Closets

Martine Bell was a very popular girl. She was especially in demand now, considering her recent run-in with the Boy Who Lived. It was difficult for her to find a moment to herself, where she could just be alone for a few minutes. She was used to attention, but usually it didn't require her to talk back. She had been recounting the anecdote so many times to so many different eager ears that she was beginning to wonder if she had made it all up. Harry hadn't refuted her story, so she assumed that she wasn't making it up and that she would probably have to tell her story every day for the rest of her time at Hogwarts.

She wondered sometimes what had made Harry kiss her. Obviously it would be nicer to sit in blissful ignorance of the truth, but there was something odd in Harry's manner that had struck a chord inside her. He had seemed so very confident to begin with, so defiant of something, and so decided in his movements. She deduced that something was going on that she would never find out, and that she had only been a vehicle for another path Harry was pursuing. She didn't mind being used, not really. It had been a good kiss, and Martine couldn't deny that she enjoyed being under the control of Harry Potter, if even for a few moments.

At twilight on Sunday night, Martine finally managed to steal away to a deserted corner of the Hogwarts castle. She snuck out from the Ravenclaw dormitory after she finished her shower, dressed in her trusty Ravenclaw colours, and crept up to the Astronomy Tower. It was the only place she was sure of being kept hidden from the bustle of pre-dinner preparations, and she needed the time alone. She hid in a broom closet around the northernmost corner, where she was sure nobody could find her.

A soft knocking came at the door five minutes after she had locked herself inside. Puzzled, Martine opened the door, and a figure stampeded into the enclosed space with her, quickly shutting the door behind it. Martine pulled on a cord hanging from the ceiling in just enough time to see Harry Potter shoving a well-loved piece of parchment into his cloak pocket. She furrowed her brow in confusion, but Harry spoke before she could push an exclamation from her throat.

"Sorry to burst in on you like this, I just..." Harry had the decency to look flustered and paused briefly to compose himself, "I thought I'd better explain myself." Martine smirked but didn't say a word. She found that an uncomfortable silence was the best impetus for a thorough explanation. "Right, so," Harry began, trying to back into the wall further to bring some respectable distance between himself and Martine, "I didn't really say anything yesterday, and I really should have explained myself a bit better. I've been... well, I should tell you right now I didn't mean to confuse you or anything. When I kissed you, I didn't really mean to kiss you. I mean, I meant to kiss you, but it wasn't for you, you know what I mean?" Martine continued to smirk but didn't change her expression at all.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I have a big confession to make." Harry blurted. Martine nodded slightly, her smirk softening to an encouraging smile, "Since you told everyone about us kissing, I've sort of... used it as an excuse for something else. I've... well, I've been trying to hide something from my friends. I guess you could say I've..." Martine could see Harry was anxious to tell her, but also frightened. She didn't say anything, but nodded to encourage him. "I've gotten myself caught up in something rather controversial, and I don't really want anyone to find out about it." Harry exhaled finally, a weight lifting from his shoulders. Even talking in such vague terms made him feel relieved.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Martine asked abruptly, but with no hint of malice.

"Well, I thought you could help me a little by continuing your storytelling."

Martine furrowed her brow. "How would that help?"

"Well, the thing is... it's a controversial relationship." A controversial relationship? Martine echoed to herself, raising her eyebrows, is Harry gay or something? God, half the girls at Hogwarts would be throwing themselves in the lake if that came out.

"And you want me to pretend you still come to me when you're really out with your controversial lover," Harry flinched at the word 'lover', so Martine corrected herself, "erm, significant other."

Harry nodded. "That was the plan, yes."

It wasn't a difficult decision for Martine to make. "Alright, then."

"You mean," Harry stuttered, vaguely confused, "you mean you'll help me, then?"

"Of course. I can't think of anyone who would pass up the chance to even pretend to be your girlfriend."

Harry flushed and pulled at the bottom of his shirt. "I can think of a few Hufflepuffs who have never forgiven me for the Tournament."

Martine's laugh rang melodically in the enclosed space. "Believe me, Harry, my story has warmed almost every female to you. Which, I suppose, is rather ironic." Harry looked sharply at her, and she quickly changed the subject. "But how do you suggest we keep this up? I mean, I can just keep pulling stories from my hat, but they'll probably be incongruous with when you go out."

"Well, I can't owl you every time I go out. What if it's spontaneous?"

Martine shook her head and rolled her eyes. "The point of having a secret lover," she didn't correct herself despite Harry's scowl, "is that you plan everything out so as not to get caught."

Harry sighed shortly. "Well, how about we meet in front of the Great Hall before dinner every night. That way I can tell you my plans, and it'll be keeping up appearances for everyone else."

"Sounds good to me. But I can't be held responsible if people find holes, or if you decide to be spontaneous. Deal?" Martine put out her hand in front of her, trying not to hit Harry in the process. Harry took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Deal."

++++++++++

Ron was not usually in the habit of wandering around the boy's dorm room naked; however, the boy's dorm room was not usually in the habit of being empty, and Ron felt it was time to grace it with his nakedness. He meandered leisurely around the room, poking around his friends' open trunks, picking up the odd magazine or homework parchment off the floor, and pulling out the clothes he was planning on wearing to dinner. Ron was not an exhibitionist - evidence supporting this was in the tightly shut curtains - but he certainly enjoyed his freedom. It was a very special occasion when he was allowed the luxury of privacy, and he found it serendipitous that he had just emerged from a shower on this particular occasion.

A loud knocking soon interrupted Ron's privacy, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Are you boys dressed in there?" Hermione's severe voice cut through the silence, and Ron scrambled to find his towel. Not on his bed, not in his trunk, where could it be? Ron thought anxiously to himself. "If someone doesn't open this door soon, I'm going to come in anyway, naked boys or not!"

Finally, Ron found his pale green - puke green, more like, he thought bitterly - towel hiding under Harry's Invisibility Cloak in his trunk, wrapped it around himself, and opened the door. Hermione's eyes widened momentarily, and her breath caught in her throat, but she quickly regained her composure. "You call that dressed?" She asked, pushing past Ron into the dorm room.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked, recognizing the determined expression on his friend's face. Hermione ignored Ron's comment and surveyed the room with disgust, her eyes resting on the clothes and books that littered the floor. She picked up a few books protectively and put them on the closest bed.

"Where's Harry?" She asked as Ron closed the door.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. He left with the map after showering, and he hasn't been back since." Hermione sighed in frustration, putting her hands on her hips. "Why?" Ron prodded curiously, "has he done something wrong?"

"Oh, not really," she said, sighing more wistfully this time, "I just wanted to yell at him some more for not talking to Martine." Ron groaned, rolled his eyes, and sat on his bed. After rubbing his temples in partly feigned annoyance, he motioned for Hermione to join him. She did, reluctantly leaving her formidable spot in the centre of the room.

"Why are you taking this so personally, Hermione?" Ron asked as Hermione sat down next to him. "It's just Martine Bell. I thought you hated those tittering Ravenclaw girls, anyway."

"Yes, but nobody deserves to be treated like that. It was a very inconsiderate thing for Harry to do; I thought he might have a bit more sense about those things."

Ron rolled his eyes again. If anyone's clueless about the female mind, he thought to himself, it's definitely Harry. "Hermione, I think for once you've actually overestimated Harry's abilities. He may be able to outwit a Hungarian Horntail, but he's really not that bright when it comes to girls."

"Girls are easy to figure out!" Hermione squawked indignantly. "We just want to be told things, to be given the common courtesy of a little insight. I'm sure that's all Martine wants right now."

"Hermione," Ron said in a placating tone, placing his hand over Hermione's, "I think you're forgetting something."

Hermione looked at Ron's hand, and then at his face. "What?" she asked carefully, hoping Ron hadn't caught on.

"You have no idea how Martine feels about all of this." Hermione's face relaxed as Ron continued. "For all we know, she could be very happy with the way things have turned out."

"Oh, come off it, Ron," Hermione snapped angrily, "you don't have any more of a clue than Harry does." She could feel logic slipping from her with every word. "There is no way that Martine is feeling completely happy with the way things have turned out," She felt indignation mixed with something fierce rise to her throat, "and if she is, she's a right fool!" Hermione now abandoned all composure and said exactly what she meant, "I know that if Harry kissed me, and all he said was 'sorry, dear, I didn't feel a thing', I would probably be very upset."

Ron froze instantly. He had been listening calmly to her rant, hoping she would make her irrational point and move on, but now he realized exactly how deep Hermione's grief burned. Hermione, now spent, released a ragged breath and slumped her shoulders. She knew she had revealed too much, but she couldn't go back on herself now. Ron, still frozen in place, began to panic silently to himself. He was sure Hermione would burst into tears at any moment, but he had no way of preventing it. His mother had always comforted Ginny when she cried, and Hermione had always run off when she felt the need to cry, so Ron's had unfortunately little experience with comforting wailing girls.

Ron tentatively tightened his grip on her hand, trying to create a comforting pressure, and Hermione looked over at him with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. Ron gulped.

"Look, I know I'm not very good at this, but..." he didn't pause for too long in case he lost his nerve, "if you ever want to tell me something, I'll listen to you." He furrowed his brow, realizing he didn't sound quite right. "What I mean is -"

Hermione shook her head. "It's okay, I know what you mean." Then, she smiled so sadly that Ron was positive she would start bawling in his face. "Thank you," she said quietly. She turned her hand over under Ron's and squeezed his in return. She stood up slowly, letting go of Ron's hand. She sniffed and straightened herself out, shaking her wet hair and pulling her robes straight. "Now," she said more steadily, "you'd better get dressed or you'll be late for dinner."

++++++++++

The Great Hall was still submerged in pre-dinner anticipation as the large double door opened seven minutes late. Professor Dumbledore had just finished that night's announcement and was about to magic dinner up from the kitchens when the creaking doors swivelled every head in his not-so attentive audience. Harry Potter and Martine Bell emerged from behind the great oak doors, and Dumbledore wondered if he should just sit down and not call dinner - Harry and Martine's appearance would sustain everyone beyond dinnertime.

With everyone's eyes on them, Harry and Martine smirked at one another, closing the doors behind them. Harry wrapped an arm around Martine's waist, drew her to him and pretended to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear as she pretended to squirm embarrassedly away from him. They parted quickly, winking furtively at each other, and hurried to their respective seats. Everyone was still silent as they sat down, their footsteps echoing in the Great Hall. Harry ignored the excited looks on his friends' faces and peered past the Hufflepuff table at the Ravenclaw girls. Martine gave an amused grin, and her friends giggled unashamedly. Harry's eyes slid past Martine and her friends to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was slouching in his seat, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Dumbledore, who had not given up on his audience, cleared his throat loudly. "And now, without further ado," he looked pointedly at Harry, "dinner shall begin." With a slight twitch of the great wizard's fingers, the large tables were laden with food; and, as if Dumbledore had conjured it as well, the air was filled with excited chatter.

"Fantastic entrance, Harry." "Couldn't have done it better myself. "Oi, Harry, could you give me some tips?" Congratulations and encouraging comments bombarded Harry from all corners as he reached for the mashed potatoes. Seamus Finnigan grabbed Harry's plate and began piling food onto it, babbling on at the same time.

"Absolutely fantastic, Harry, really. Goodness, Harry Potter and Martine Bell... I should have guessed it. Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor and bachelorette - it was almost inevitable. Harry, I'm proud of you, I really am, and I'm thrilled this has happened for you. I think I speak for all of Gryffindor when I say that I fully support this relationship and will aid and abet any scheme necessary to further it." The entire Gryffindor table burst into applause as Seamus finished his speech and handed Harry back his plate. Harry reddened quickly and stared into his over full plate, noticing that neither Ron nor Hermione was clapping, or even looking up at the rest of the revellers.

Harry leaned over to Hermione, the rest of the table now secured in their own gossiping. "Thank you for making me talk to Martine," he said in a low voice, "it really helped."

"That's alright," she said flatly, "any time."

Harry furrowed his brow. Even when Hermione was angry with him she was more animated than this. He leaned over to Ron, hoping for a more enthusiastic response.

"Ron, thanks for saying what you did at the lake this afternoon. I think it really gave me the push I needed to talk to Martine."

Ron just stared at his plate. "No worries," he said quietly before a mouthful.

Harry frowned. He had expected a more lively response out of Ron than anyone else in the Great Hall, and when Ron didn't deliver, Harry became especially confused. "Do you know what's wrong with Hermione?" he asked, trying to change the subject. Ron dropped his fork and looked fiercely at Harry.

"I do, and if you don't, then you're blind," Ron spat angrily. "Open your eyes, Harry, it's plain as day." The genuinely confused look on Harry's face did nothing to calm Ron. "They have you pegged as some superhuman, Harry, but really..." he couldn't finish his sentence, so he turned back to his food angrily.

Harry looked at his plate, which now made him feel nauseous, and stabbed at a piece of sausage. What had gotten into his friends? One minute they were as anxious as Lavender or Parvati for gossip, and the next minute they were punishing him for something Harry couldn't fathom. Harry ate in silence, idly listening to Seamus and Dean's innuendo-laden conversation, too confused by his friends to partake in any gossip.

Dinner seemed to linger excruciatingly as Harry tried to push his food around his plate to make it look eaten. Ron and Hermione stood at the same moment, sharing some mutual desire to leave, and Harry stood up hurriedly with them. They walked in silence, Harry walking awkwardly at their side, being bumped by other students hurrying out of the Great Hall. Harry felt like asking what had gotten into his friends, but thought better of it. Maybe they just need to sleep on it, he thought to himself, blindly pushing past someone in his hurry to keep up with Ron and Hermione.

"No running in the halls, Potter," a familiar voice drawled behind Harry. Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Flustered, he turned back to where Ron and Hermione had been seconds earlier, but noticed that they had strode ahead without even a backwards glance. "What," Malfoy said, and Harry turned to him, "Weasel and the Mudblood jealous?"

Harry scowled. Though the only thing Harry could think of as he looked at Malfoy's simpering lips was how much he wanted to ravish them, he remained composed. "Don't you bring them into this," he growled, "you repulsive, slimy git."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in mere amusement. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly. Their muscles bulged as they did so, and Harry noticed how different they really were from their leader. Malfoy looked like a twig next to his thugs, and Harry tried not to smile at the image of a blonde sapling freshly planted between two Whomping Willow-sized trees with mops of dark leaves for hair.

Malfoy raised his hand as Crabbe and Goyle moved towards Harry, stopping them in their tracks. "Leave him to me, boys," Malfoy said, keeping his eyes fixed on Harry. Crabbe and Goyle looked vaguely disappointed that they couldn't beat on Harry, but quickly disappeared into the bustling Entrance Hall nonetheless.

"A repulsive, slimy git, am I?" Malfoy asked, trying to sound angry, but Harry could see the amused glint in his eye. "That's not what you said last night," he said lowly, leaning towards Harry. Harry tore his eyes from Malfoy's lips and glanced around the Entrance Hall to see if anyone had overheard. The hall's inhabitants, however, were more interested in getting to their dormitories than in the bickering boys. Martine caught Harry's eye and waved, her friends following her and giggling behind their hands. Harry waved back at her, and Malfoy's eyes quickly followed Harry's gaze.

"Prick," Malfoy muttered under his breath, and started waving at Martine, a sardonic snarl on his face. Martine frowned as she disappeared around a corner, and Harry, noticing Malfoy's expression, shoved the boy in the shoulder. Malfoy staggered backwards and watched with an amused smirk as Harry stepped closer to him.

"Don't you fucking touch her," Harry said fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Malfoy's robes and shaking him. Lust flared inside of Harry at his proximity to Malfoy, and Malfoy smirked as he noticed the look in Harry's eyes flicker dangerously.

"Oh, don't tell me you're playing both sides of the fence at the same time, Potter." Malfoy was nearly beaming, and Harry fought to contain himself. "How very cunning."

"Right," Harry said determinedly, pushing Malfoy backwards, "I've had enough." Malfoy's back slammed against a door, his head banging painfully against it. Malfoy raised a hand to his head as Harry reached behind him and grabbed the doorknob. "Get in," Harry whispered savagely into Malfoy's ear.

With a cursory glance around the now-deserted Entrance Hall, Harry shoved Malfoy backwards into the dark broom closet and followed in after him. He grabbed two fistfuls of Malfoy's robes in the darkness and roughly pushed Malfoy's back flat against the back wall.

"Your insolence astounds me, Malfoy," Harry said violently, his hot breath tickling the strands of hair that had fallen into Malfoy's eyes. Despite the discomfort he felt - he was sure he had stepped into a dustbin - Malfoy managed a derisive smirk.

"And your hormones astound me, Potter."

Without allowing Harry a chance to reply, Malfoy had leaned into Harry and closed his lips around Harry's. Harry, not relenting his grip on Malfoy's robes, closed his eyes and groaned into Malfoy's mouth. Draco quickly coaxed Harry's mouth open and slid his hands under Harry's robes. Harry pulled away from the kiss and quickly lowered his mouth to Malfoy's neck.

"Merlin, Potter," Malfoy exclaimed, craning his neck to allow Harry access to the tender flesh. As Harry continued work on his neck, Malfoy's long fingers tugged insistently at Harry's shirt. Harry's eyelids fluttered as Malfoy unhitched the over starched shirt and traced lines along Harry's sensitive skin.

Sucking hard at the spot where Malfoy's jaw met his neck, Harry barely noticed as Malfoy's hands moved deftly to his trousers and started to fiddle with the zipper. His head still tilted backwards, Malfoy drew in a sharp breath and plunged his hand into Harry's pants. Harry made a strangled sort of noise and grabbed Malfoy's wrist, pulling quickly away from him. Draco lowered his head and looked through the darkness into Harry's bewildered eyes.

Harry made a gurgling noise at the back of his throat, but Malfoy did not move his hand. "We'll be missed," Harry choked out.

"Then you'll want to be removing my hand from your trousers, then, won't you?" Malfoy said in a perfectly steady voice. Harry gulped visibly and slowly pulled Malfoy's hand away from him.

Lacking anything intelligent to say, Harry blurted "Sorry" into the silence as he zipped up his trousers.

"No need to apologize, Potter," Draco said, smirking in the dark, "I enjoyed it just as much as you did."

Harry tucked in his shirt awkwardly, feeling Malfoy's eyes on him. "I'll see you tomorrow in class," he said quickly and left the closet hurriedly.

Malfoy looked down at his foot, which was, indeed, stuck in an old empty dustbin. He shook his head to himself, kicking in a vain attempt to free his foot. "Damn you, Potter."