The Society for the Admiration of Harry Potter

Draco was never quite sure how he got back to Hogwarts. He didn't think to move for a full five minutes after Potter did, and running was out of the question, of course. He stumbled back to Hogwarts, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew Potter wasn't very far ahead of him--he could hear his footsteps echoing in the long tunnel back, after all--but he never caught so much of a glimpse of him. When he got back to the dorms, far past midnight, he immediately collapsed into his bed; which somehow felt warmer and softer than it usually did.

There was a reason for that, as he discovered the next morning.

"Draco," said a voice, very very close to his ear. "I am, after all, very fond of you. You are one of my best friends. And, as I said, I am very fond of you. As a friend."

Draco sighed and rolled over. "Mmm..."

A finger poked him between the shoulder blades. "That's very nice, Draco," said Blaise. "So--why, exactly are you in my bed?"

Draco opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. The light was very bright that morning. He covered his eyes with his hands and rolled over one more time, right out of bed. He didn't move.

"Draco?" That would be Vince. "Are you still alive?"

"Shh!" Draco said desperately. "Don't talk so loud!"

"Oh," Greg said, in a hushed whisper. "Okay, Draco."

Someone pried his eyelid open. Blaise was bending over him, looking torn between amusement and concern. "Would you by any chance like to tell us where you were last night?"

"Out," Draco said stubbornly, swatting Blaise's hand away.

"Out drinking?"

There was a pause. "Maybe," Draco admitted guiltily.

With a sigh, Blaise pulled him to his feet. "Well, we have to let Pansy know you're alright, anyway," he said. "I doubt she slept at all last night."

Draco only managed to stumble down stairs with the support of his three friends--Blaise and Greg each taking one arm, and Vince behind him to pull him up when he started to slip forwards. When they finally stopped walking, he was able to stand on his own two feet, and took the opportunity to rub his bleary, red eyes.

Unfortunately, his friends' efforts in getting him down the stairs were soon put to waste. With a sound like a stampeding wildebeest, Pansy trampled towards him and threw her arms around him, sending him straight to the ground. "Oh, Draco!" she squealed as she kissed his cheeks. "I thought you were dead!"

His head was throbbing.

"This is all very undignified for a Malfoy," he mumbled feebly.

"You know what else is undignified?" Blaise said, a smirk in his voice. "Getting drunk."

Pansy pulled back from him with a gasp. "Oh, Draco, you couldn't have!"

Draco shrugged and struggled to get back to his feet. "I was thirsty."

Pansy snarled and grabbed his hand, yanking him to his feet. "Draco Malfoy! When I tell your father about this--"

Draco whimpered. She had quite a tight grip on his arm. "Please don't. Pansy," he pleaded. "He'll cut off--he'll cut off my allowance!"

Blaise looked thoughtful. "I've never really understood why you need two-hundred galleons a month, anyway," he mused.

"Oh, you know," Draco said. "The necessities in life. Dragon-hide jackets. Silk robes. Truffles." He cracked an eye. "And hangover Potion," he said. "Which I happen to have in my trunk, if you will, Greg."

Greg trotted off obediently. Draco sighed and leaned his head back. Pansy, he found, was slightly less intimidating when his eyes were closed, even if his head did feel like it was going to crack in half every time she talked.

"Draco," she said menacingly. "Why do you have hangover potion in your trunk?"

"Um, I don't know," Draco said meekly. "I mean, it could have gotten there. Somehow. Without me putting it there."

"Were you planning on getting drunk?" she shrieked.

"Not so loud!" Draco begged. His stomach was feeling sick.

"Oh, leave him alone, Pansy," Blaise said, speaking up for the first time in his defense. "We're almost of age, after all."

"He's only fifteen!" Pansy said shrilly.

"Two years," Blaise countered. "Actually, one year and a few months."

Draco sighed, and did his best to ignore Blaise and Pansy, arguing in increasingly loud voices, as Greg reemerged from the dorms holding a small, bright red bottle. "Here you are, Draco," he said dully.

Draco swallowed its contents in one gulp and immediately felt almost completely better. Then he wanted to throw up all over Pansy's shoes. "Oh my god," he said faintly. "I kissed Harry Potter."

That was a surefire way to bring any conversation to a halt. "You what?" Pansy asked, her voice serious.

"Oh, Pansy, it was horrible," Draco said, his eyes brimming. "It was like--oh, it was--" He puckered his lips in a crude imitation of Potter. "'Oh, Draco, love of my life!'" he said hysterically.

There was a pair of lips on his. Draco opened his eyes and saw Pansy less than six inches away, blinking nervously.

Draco howled in wordless agony. "Pansy, NO! I thought you were my FRIEND!"

Pansy backed up, right into Blaise. "Sorry, Draco, but I thought--"

"No, no, no!" Draco cried hysterically. "I have now been kissed against my will TWICE in ten hours. This is--disturbing, this is--this is--it's not right, and I won't have it!"

And, on that note, he strode across the room, gripped the front of Blaise's robes, and mashed their mouths together.

"Hah, there see?" he said triumphantly. "I can do it too, I can kiss people! Watch me--oi you!"

An innocent third year was coming down the stairs from the girls' dorms, possibly to see what all the commotion was about. When she turned to see why Draco was shouting, he picked her up and kissed her full on the lips before depositing her back on the staircase.

"Did you see that?" he asked his friends eagerly. "Did you see what I did?"

"Yes, Draco," said Blaise sourly, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "And I can really see why, if you've got a problem being kissed, kissing a load of people will help."

Pansy was nearly in tears. "Draco, you were coming at me with your lips puckered, what was I supposed to do?"

Draco stared at her reflectively. "Hmm, maybe you're right. I should kiss a few more people."

"That's not what I--"

But Draco wasn't listening. He spun around; eyes closed, and grabbed the shoulder of the first person his hand touched--a rather bulky one, and higher in the air than he was--before squashing their lips together. He opened his eyes and saw--

"Goyle. Oh, it's you." The world seemed to be spinning. "I think I need to sit down," Draco said, before collapsing on the couch.

"Draco?" Greg asked uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

Draco's voice was muffled by his knees. "No," he said pleasantly. "I am not okay, thanks very much. I can't believe I just...oh, this is disgusting."

"Well, that's kind of what you deserved," Blaise told him diplomatically.

"No one deserves that," Pansy said with a shudder, and Draco wordlessly agreed.

After a few minutes of silence, in which Pansy rubbed his shoulder and Greg desperately wondered what he'd done wrong, Blaise spoke up. "So. You kissed Harry Potter."

Draco shook his head. "No, no, no! He kissed me! And as I hope we've all learned in the past few minutes, they are entirely different things."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "That's not what you said earlier," she said suspiciously. "I remember. 'I kissed Harry Potter,' you said."

"Well, that's not what I meant!" Draco practically shouted. Ted Nott, a few feet away, scurried off in fear.

Blaise seemed to be scrutinizing him. "Was he a good kisser, Draco?"

Draco turned bright red and looked away. Why was Blaise even asking that--it was none of his business, it was private, it was--

Luckily, Pansy spoke up before he had a chance to.

"It's not as if he'd know! Assuming they were both drunk at the time--"

Draco nodded fervently. "We were, we were," he said. "And hopefully Potter's forgotten all about it."

Pansy looked at him as if he were crazy. "Why would you want that?" she asked, startled. "If it really was him that kissed you, and not the other way around--"

"It was."

"Well then, this should be happy news, Draco," she said pragmatically. "This is definitely gossip worth spreading around the school."

Blaise sniggered. "Yeah, can you imagine the looks on everybody's faces when they find out that their precious Boy-Who-Lived fancies another bloke?"

Draco's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. He felt no need to let slip that he'd actually known the bit about the fancying blokes for a while. Known--and said nothing. He actually felt guilty about it, now that he saw the horrible, accusing stares Pansy and Blaise were sending his way.

"Draco?" Pansy said, very quietly. "You do think it's a good idea, don't you?"

Draco had always been able to control himself. It was something he took pride in. Now, however, his tongue failed him in a very big way.

"Actually, Pansy," he said. "I'd prefer that you not."

They were clearly stymied. Even Vince scratched his head thoughtfully. "Why not, Draco?" asked Blaise.

Draco felt his face growing hot. First his tongue betrayed him, now his skin. But honestly--it wasn't his fault. It was just that he hadn't realized, until this moment, that if Potter didn't realize what had happened--they could go on being friends--that's what they were, wasn't it? And no one would ever need know. The kiss hadn't been Draco's idea, that was for sure--and, judging by his drunken state, it hadn't exactly been Potter's either. If Potter was content to ignore it, so was Draco.

It was starting to feel like a bit of a mistake to tell Pansy and Blaise.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "Just--just don't," he said feebly.

And now he had to count on a pair of Slytherins to keep his secret. Being a Slytherin himself, he knew that was generally not a good idea.

"Breakfast," he said determinedly. At least this way, he could keep an eye on them.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Draco wasn't sure whether he was pleased that he and his four friends arrived at the Great Hall at exactly the same time that Potter did. Potter, flanked by his two friends, looked horrible--he was a pale shade of green, wearing rumpled robes that looked exactly like the ones he had worn yesterday; with shaky, trembling hands.

Apparently, Gryffindors did not set much store with Hangover Potion.

Potter was hardly standing. Granger, a few feet ahead of him, appeared furious, and was only pausing to direct a death-glare at the two boys behind her. Weasley, however, was much more sympathetic; supporting Potter with two hands. Draco felt an inexplicable surge of--something. Weasley didn't need to be so grabby.

"Malfoy," Granger said coldly as she approached. "I need to talk to you."

Draco blanched and turned to Pansy for support. She squeezed his hand, and he opened his mouth, ready to make a brilliantly witty retort that would shut her up entirely.

There was no need. "Don't, Hermione," Potter said urgently, attempting to stagger forward and stop her--and, in a way that Draco, for one, could have predicted--he stumbled and landed right at the feet of the three Slytherins.

Draco, automatically, reached out and pulled him to his feet.

"Hands off," Weasley snarled, and Draco complied. But, after all, it was only good manners to see Potter safely to Weasley. And that, in Potter's state, required an arm around the shoulder, and one around the waist to prevent him from toppling over.

"Here's your Potter, good as new," Draco said, a sneer on his face.

Potter, safely back with his Weasel, looked even more nauseous before. Perhaps he realized that movement in general was a bad idea in his current state. His face was glowing a brilliant shade of scarlet, and his mouth was gaping. Draco was as surprised as anyone when he shoved Weasley off and, in a surprising display of strength, managed to push open the heavy wooden doors to the Great Hall and stagger in.

Weasley looked triumphant. "I knew he'd come to his senses eventually," he remarked to Draco. "He clearly can't stand to be around you," he called over his shoulder as he followed Potter into the hall.

Which Draco, quite frankly, thought was saying a bit much considering that Potter had been kissing him just last night, but still.

He got ready to turn tail and run headlong into the Hall when Hermione Granger stopped him with a claw-like hand on his elbow.

"Malfoy," she repeated. "I need to talk to you."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Anything you need to Draco you can say to us, Mudblood," she said viciously, automatically stepping in front of Draco.

"Well, no, I can't," Granger said mildly. "And I am quite sorry it had to come to this," she added as an afterthought. "Petrificus Totalus!" she shrieked, and, quite suddenly, Pansy and Blaise were lying rigidly on the floor, with Blaise at a rather awkward angle across Pansy's stomach.

"Do I need to do you, too?" she asked Greg and Vince pleasantly, as if she had not just been casting curses on (fairly) innocent bystanders. "Good. Get in the hall."

As they obediently retreated, Draco felt his heart sinking. Greg and Vince had been his last hope. Neither really had the cunning or ambition to be Slytherin--or really, the anything to be anything--but they were good enough with the sheer muscle, and it would have done Draco some good to see Hermione Granger flattened.

"Walk with me," she said, and curled her hand even more tightly on his elbow.

"Listen," Draco said hurriedly as soon as they were out of earshot from the Great Hall. "You don't plan on kissing me or anything, do you?"

She looked genuinely surprised. "Why in god's name would I want to kiss you?"

Draco, not for the first time that day, reddened. "Er, nothing," he rushed. "It's only that...Well, a lot of people seem to want to. Recently."

She looked amused. "What, am I supposed to be overcome by your beauty? I have a boyfriend. Besides, Malfoy, the pale, pointy look is not doing it for me."

Draco stopped short, his jaw dropping.

"Oh, close your mouth, you'll swallow a fly," Granger said irritably.

Draco shook himself and hurried to catch up with her. Clearly, she had not meant it. No one could really think that. It was impossible.

He gulped. She certainly seemed serious. "Anyway," he said abruptly, changing the subject. "If this has anything to do with the wine--"

"Of course it doesn't, Malfoy," she said condescendingly. "I can tell well enough that Harry's been drinking. I don't need you for that."

Draco felt the beginning of dread in the pit of his stomach, and looked longingly in the direction of the Great Hall. "Then what do you need me for, Granger?"

This time, she was the one to stop abruptly. Draco turned around to see her leaning against a wall, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her sleeve. "Well," she said hesitantly. "Well, you're right that it is about Harry. I mean," she continued in a rush. "He stumbled into the Common Room at about two last night, and he could barely walk, let alone talk, but he was mumbling something about you. I mean," she ran a hand through her already frizzy hair. "I already know you were with him last night, he told us that. But he wouldn't say anything more. And I know that more happened. I need to know what, so I'm--"

"Going behind his back to find out what he's been up to?" Draco interrupted her. "How very Slytherin of you, Granger. I'm sure Potter would be glad to know how very much you trust him."

She looked distraught, and bit her lip. "I know, Malfoy," she said miserably. "And I don't want to, really, but--he's been through so much already, and we're his best friends, and I need to know how to act around him to make him feel better."

Draco felt himself becoming unaccountably angry at her. "If you're really his friend," he said shortly. "You shouldn't need me to teach you how to talk to him. Now if you'll excuse me, Granger," he sneered, turning back towards the hall. "I think you've wasted enough of my time already, thanks very much."

He was almost to the corner when Granger stopped him.

"Malfoy!" she called. Draco slowed and halted, but didn't say a word. "Is Harry--do you know, is Harry gay?"

Now Draco turned to look at her, glaring. "Why would you think that?" Pansy and Blaise knowing about it was one thing, but Granger and Weasley was another thing entirely.

Granger looked terrified at what she'd said. She hopped nervously from foot to foot. "Oh, why did I say that?" she wailed. "Oh, Harry's going to murder me!"

"If he's managed not to kill you for the past five years, I don't think you have much to worry about from him. But as for me..."

She suddenly turned vicious, pulling out her wand and pointing it at his nose. "You have to swear not to tell, Malfoy," she said hysterically. "You have to swear, you really do, or I'll...I'll Obliviate you!"

Draco stared at her incredulously.

"What is it about me that makes people want to wipe my mind?" he asked.

She lowered her wand slightly. Where were the teachers during all of this? Oh yeah. Breakfast. Which Draco desperately needed.

Granger's lip was trembling. Girls crying, in Draco's book, was down there with Hagrid the Horrible and bad hair days as Not Good.

"You're kind of his friend, aren't you?" she said. "I mean, you've been spending a lot of time with him the past few days, anyway. So you wouldn't want to spread nasty rumors about him--would you?"

Well, no, he didn't. Not really, not anymore. But there was no earthly reason why Granger should know that. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully, pretending to consider. "I mean, this would be very bad for Potter. If it were to get around. And what would he think; if he knew that you suggested it."

She crossed her arms. "Alright, Malfoy. What do you want?"

He snapped to attention. "Whatever you have, Granger. And it had better be good. I'm sure you can think of a favor or two."

She opened and closed her mouth several times before managing to find words. "I hope you aren't implying that...I mean, I have no desire to...I won't..." she gulped and turned bright red before she found the ability to finish her sentence. "I'm not going to perform any sexual favors for you, Malfoy."

Draco stared at her, dumbstruck. His mind's eye was blinded by the horrific picture she had just presented them with. "Why on earth would you think...that?" he asked weakly.

Now she was defensive. "Well, you seemed to be going that way," she said crossly. "What with asking me if I was going to kiss you, and then asking me for favors...I just thought I'd bring it out in the open."

Draco shook his head and sank against the wall. "No, Granger. Rest assured; I want nothing to do with your body."

"Oh," she said. Was it just Draco, or did she sound slightly disappointed? "Anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "I think I have a better idea. The Room of Requirement. Here, let's go." With those words, she grabbed his wrist and began sweeping him away, up and up and up the stairs, and stopped outside a blank wall.

"A wall," Draco said thoughtfully. "How clever of you, Granger. I don't think I've ever come across one of these."

"No, you haven't," she said impatiently. "There's a room behind this wall."

Draco gasped in mock-shock.

"Oh, will you shut up and listen to me!" Granger snapped. "I'm trying to show you something--not anything like--that," she added hastily, as Draco opened his mouth to comment. "Look, you just--oh this isn't worth it--but you walk by this stretch of wall three times, thinking what you want inside it, and it'll be there."

"Could I have a harem?" Draco wondered aloud.

Granger winced. "I don't think so. Maybe. I've never tried getting a harem."

Draco grinned at Granger with a newfound appreciation. Maybe she was a Mudblood, but she was certainly a useful one. And surprisingly easy to manipulate. Draco could easily profit from this odd, school-wide obsession with Potter. Maybe he would thank Ginny Weasley for that. Later.

Granger tapped her foot impatiently. "So?" she said.

Draco stared at her blankly. "So what?"

"So I asked you a question, that's what!" she said crossly.

"Oh, that's right. You wondered if Potter was--"

"Gay, right. Well?"

Draco stared at her curiously. It was odd, imagining Potter hiding anything from his two friends--up until a few weeks ago, when he had started actively looking, he had rarely seen the three of them apart.

"I really think you ought to ask him," Draco said slowly. How could she be so oblivious? Potter had kissed him. Draco vaguely wondered if he would ever want to do it again.

Granger was staring at him with something akin to respect on her face. "You really are something else, Malfoy," she said.

"By 'something else', I assume you mean 'brilliant'," said Draco. No one had ever claimed he was modest, after all.

Granger didn't seem to have any more thoughts about interrogating him. "Let's just go back to the hall," she said.

They walked back to the hall in silence. Draco was absorbed in his thoughts. Should he have told Granger what he had known? He resolved to talk to Potter as soon as he had the chance. Whatever else he was, Draco wasn't one to walk away from a conflict, particularly when the resolution might turn out to be interesting.

When he and Granger had almost reached the Great Hall, Draco was stopped in his tracks by an odd, moaning sound. "Er, why don't you go on ahead of me?" he asked Granger nervously.

She sniffed but complied, holding her wand in front of her like a sword. "Honestly," she said. "Slytherins."

Draco was relieved at the sight of Pansy and Blaise, in exactly the same position Granger had left them in. "Don't you think you'd better free them?" he asked.

She stopped short, her face burning red. "I think someone already has!"

Draco leaned forward and looked closer. She was right--Pansy's hand was sliding along Blaise's back, and Blaise was doing something interesting with his tongue.

"Oh," said Draco, comprehension dawning. "So that's what that moaning was. Hey--Pansy--Blaise!"

Blaise smiled cheerfully up at him. Pansy's lipstick was streaked across his face. "Hello, Draco!" he said cheerfully. "We wondered when you'd be back."

"Want to join us?" Pansy offered. "Nothing like a good snog to wake you up in the morning."

"No thank you," Draco said politely. "Maybe some other time."

"I think," Granger said decidedly. "That I will be sick, very shortly."

"Well, don't do it here," Pansy sniffed, but without the malice that was usually in her voice when speaking to Granger. "Blaise and I plan to stay here for a while."

Granger leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Draco opened it for her, and she jumped as if she had been hit.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she said weakly, hurrying to the Gryffindor table.

"Where are you going, Draco?" Pansy asked, as he made to follow.

"To talk to Potter," he said shortly, and followed Granger.

They ended up arriving at the table at almost exactly the same time.

"There you are, Hermione," Weasley said as she approached. "We wondered where you were--Harry thought you might have been killed.

If Potter had indeed thought so, he didn't bother to say. Instead, he stared directly at his pumpkin juice as if he were attempting some sort of communication with it, and turned very, very red.

"No," Draco said, very politely. "We were just off at a good snog, thanks."

Both boys looked up at this, Weasley to stare at Granger. Potter's eyes darted up to Draco's face, before turning back to his breakfast.

"You didn't, Hermione," Weasley said hoarsely. "Not with--not him."

"I did not!" Granger said defiantly, stomping her feet. "Ron, if you can't even trust me--"

"I do! But when you're--"

"Oh, don't give me that, you just--"

Now that those two were occupied with each other, Draco turned his full attention to Potter.

"Hello, Potter," he said warily.

Potter still seemed unable to look at him. "Malfoy," he said, by way of acknowledgment.

Draco was still not sure what he intended to say. But he'd had a good time last night. "So when do you think you can get in to Hogsmeade again?" he asked. "I mean if you want to, of course."

Potter was looking at him now--staring at him, in fact; horrified. "What are you trying to say?"

Draco blinked. Potter was making it very difficult for Draco to follow his train of thought. "Just that I thought it might be fun to go into Hogsmeade again," he said. Apparently, his masterful plan of ignoring The (drunken) Kiss was not going to succeed.

"Not for a while, Malfoy," Potter said carefully, staring determinedly at his toast. "And--and I'm sorry--"

"What for?"

"So that's all I have to say, and if you could, really, leave me alone. You've been doing that well enough for the past five years."

With that, he turned away, and Draco was left looking like an idiot, standing alone behind the Gryffindor table.