A Tale of Two Diaries

A Tale of Two Diaries (02)

Dear Diary,

Oh my fucking god. I cannot BELIEVE that Harry Potter has such a nice arse. He's doing it to annoy me. He is being gorgeous simply so that he can irritate me to beyond what I supposed was humanly possible. And the dreams. As if bloody...thoughts weren't enough! Now I have to put up with dreams! I had this really strange one the other night. Well, not strange, maybe...maybe it was just a little nice. In an appalling kind of way of course.

***

Draco walked through the forbidden forest. The soft crunching and snapping of the foliage below him seemed an eerie symphony. A beam of moonlight struck down from the sky, exposing a dark head of hair through the leaves. Harry. Harry was here. The symphony heightened in a beautiful crescendo as Harry pulled away the branches to look at him. Draco's heart rate increased, and a stirring in his groin and heart commanded him to hold out his arms. And Harry fell into them. Draco didn't waste any time. He kissed him, passionately, and Harry did things with his tongue that Draco hadn't imagined a good-boy like Potter could do. Draco sank to his knees, pulling Harry down with him, and he unbuttoned Harry's shirt, slowly. Harry did the same to him, and traced circles on Draco's chest with his tongue. Draco moaned, louder, louder. He didn't care if the whole forest could hear him. Harry stripped Draco of all his clothes and Draco retaliated, until they were clothed in nothing but each other and the moonlight. And then, Harry made love to him. Adding a violin to the symphony, that at its mellow points was so wonderful, and at its highest points became so unbearable with pleasure that he was going to break. Until the symphony ended. And all was still.

Draco opened his eyes. Another one. Another set of wet sheets. He felt so humiliated. He sighed and got out of bed, stripping his clothes and grabbing his towel and bath-robe. He headed towards the showers. Trying in a futile attempt to dislodge his last dream from his mind. He reached the showers and turned them on, sighing. He hadn't finished his arithmancy essay last night. The numbers had swum in front of the page, uselessly, and Potter's bloody smug face had swum into his brain. Eugh. Eugh, eugh, eugh.

He finished his shower and returned to his dorm. He changed, thinking about where he could go if he skipped arithmancy. There was the library...no, Madame Pince didn't always believe the 'doing a research paper' excuse. He contemplated his options as he headed down to breakfast, hoping that Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't be following him, asking ridiculous questions like 'how do you spell "potion"'? He really hated them, almost as much as he hated that idiot Parkinson. Pug face. Bitch. Pansy openly admitted that she planned to ensnare Draco and use his inheritance to pay fro expensive sex-toys. Everyday Draco said a silent prayer that Pansy Parkinson would suddenly and inexplicably become a lesbian. And everyday his prayer was not answered.

He reached the hall and walked to the slytherin table. Potter wasn't affecting him at all, that was for sure. Yep. No effect at all. And the fact that Potter was laughing so much at one of Weasley's jokes that he was putting salt on his corn flakes instead of sugar didn't make Draco want to rush over and tell him before his taste-buds met this disturbing combination. Draco sat down. Holy shit he was in trouble.

***

Dear Journal,

Luckily, I have had no more shivery moments since that one before. Yes I am lucky. Because that whole shivery-thing was really worrying me. It was challenging the fact that I am straight. Because I am. I really really am. Because I don't watch Draco Malfoy from across the tables. Bugger. I just read that back. I'm so obvious. Poo.

***

Harry sighed.

"Hermione? Can I...can I ask your advice?" Hermione closed her book and looked up.

"Of course Harry, what's wrong?" Harry gulped.

"Well, I-I like this person, but I don't think that other people will like them. And I'm not even sure that they like me."

"Harry!!! Don't be silly! Who couldn't like you? And, whoever you went out with, we'd have to like!" Harry contemplated this.

"And also, Hermione...what if this person was not the sort of person you'd expect me to like?

"I...I don't understand. Can you give me an example?"

Hermione. Will you promise me you won't tell Ron this?" Hermione nodded.

"The person I like is a boy."

Hermione's book fell off her lap.

***

Harry was gay. Gay. Homosexual. No matter how she phrased it, it couldn't quite register. Harry found other boys attractive. Wow. Although he had refused to tell her the name of his mystery boy, she still tried to figure it out by narrowing down her options. It couldn't be Neville, he just...wasn't sexy. Erm...Seamus and Dean were already an item so they were probably ruled out. Ron...NO! So it had to be someone from another house. Or someone in another year. Hermione would figure it out. She always did.