A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing

Chapter 4

"You look like crap." Harry glanced behind Draco to Ron and Hermione as the three entered the Great Hall for breakfast. "What's he been doing?"

"You mean besides muttering to himself, pacing back and forth, and scribbling on what must have been a hundred scrolls?" Ron asked.

"Potter, you shallow thing. I always thought looks never mattered to you, which did explain your choices of hairstyle and clothing." Draco brushed past Harry to sit at the Slytherin table, ignoring the dirty looks of Bulstrode and Parkinson, so that he could focus on making a rude gesture at Zabini.

Hermione and Ron looked at one another, then followed Draco to the absolutely wrong table. Crabbe smiled and made room for Hermione while Goyle simply huffed and pulled a chair out next to him for Ron.

Ron helped himself to a huge serving of eggs, before passing the platter on. "He was up all night. I think half the Gryffindors wanted to kill him just so that they could get some sleep."

Draco, surveying his surroundings, beamed. "Back at the Slytherin table, Gryffindors wanting to kill me...ah, good times. If you must know, I was up working on a Plan. A Plan to save all of us."

Ron added a pile of sausage to his plate. "I read one of your scrolls. Green sheets, green silk underwear, hair gel, oil - don't know how that's going to save us."

"That," Draco said, haughtily while stirring a cup of tea, "was my shopping list."

"Oh, good," Hermione let out a relieved sigh and helped herself to a muffin from the plate Crabbe was holding out to her. "I read one, too. Mine said things like "muggle cameras and a large ham."

"That," Draco said, even more haughtily than before," is part of my Plan."

Ron slid a few slices of tomatoes onto his plate then grabbed some toast to add to the growing mound. "Is this the plan you were muttering about that involved staking Neville out on the Quidditch pitch with a sign saying "Eat me'?"

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "No. I decided that, knowing Longbottom, he'd botch up being eaten somehow. My current plan is much better."

Harry sat back and stared at Draco next to him, who was sipping his tea contentedly, Crabbe, who was trying to tempt Hermione with a croissant, and Goyle, who was staring at Ron and his overflowing plate as if he'd met his god, and wondered at what point exactly his life had been turned upside down.

A moment later, Harry felt Draco's hand slide onto his thigh and decided that maybe it didn't matter.

* * *

Draco caught Snape glaring at him as he entered Potions class a few steps ahead of his friends and gave him a smirk in return. Stopping at his usual spot, Harry went past him to get to his own seat, and Draco patted Harry's arse possessively. Potter let out a surprised yelp, then gave him a lopsided grin.

Snape's glare grew several notches in intensity.

The rest of the class filed in and Snape took his customary place at the front of the room.

"Today, you will be working on creating a Purifying Potion. This will most certainly be on the Potions NEWT exam. Once correctly completed, the potion is quite safe. However, due to its unstable nature during its preparation, I must insist that you exercise due caution. It would be most unpleasant if any of you were to perish and waste all the knowledge I've spent seven long years attempting to force into your tiny minds. The instructions are on the board. You may choose your partners now."

The students began to pair up. Ron edged toward Draco, who pushed him toward Hermione. Turning away, Draco spied the person he wanted to work with standing alone, scanning the directions, petrified.

"Longbottom," Draco said loudly, causing several heads to turn as he walked toward Neville. "You're my partner. Now make yourself useful and gather the ingredients."

Startled, Neville swallowed, then quickly nodded before hurrying toward the supplies.

Neville wasn't the only one shocked at Draco's choice. Several students were staring, including Potter, who was partnered with Goyle, while Crabbe teamed up with Nott.

As Draco and Neville carefully began dicing and measuring the ingredients, Snape approached and studied them for a moment before speaking.

"Mister Malfoy, I had heard rumours that your recent head injury has caused aberrations in your behaviour. I see it is true."

Without pausing in his work, Draco replied. "I'd think that a Professor wouldn't listen to rumours. Or show an interest in the personal lives of his students, for that matter."

"Although I have little desire to know any of you, Dumbledore does encourage the staff to be aware of what is occurring on school grounds."

"Little desire?" Draco repeated, straightening up and looking pointedly from Snape to Harry and back again. "I'm pleased to hear that."

Snape also glanced at Harry, who was now watching the two of them uneasily, then refocused on Draco. "However, occasionally something so compelling arises that I feel the need to take matters in hand."

Draco's expression hardened. "You stay away."

The smile Snape gave him in return sent shivers down his spine. "And you, Mister Malfoy, should remember that you are a merely a student here and in no position to dictate terms."

Fuming, Draco watched as Snape stalked toward Harry, who was feigning concentration on the assignment.

"Look!" Neville said excitedly next to him. "The potion - it's glowing white, just like it's supposed to."

Snape was leaning over Harry, now, and, to the casual observer, was merely examining the substance in the cauldron. However, Draco could see how close their bodies were and how Harry was flushing in response.

"I did it!" Neville was crowing. "I actually brewed a potion perfectly."

As Draco seethed, Snape's hand came to rest on Harry's hip. This wasn't right. Nothing was working out the way it was supposed to.

With a cry of frustration, Draco hurled the cauldron next to him against the wall, burning his hands in the process.

All work and conversation halted as the cauldron clattered onto the floor and the potion purified the stone wall as it trickled down.

A furious Snape pulled away from Harry. A stricken Neville collapsed in a stunned heap on the floor. A defiant Draco faced his Potions teacher.

"It slipped," he deadpanned.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and two nights detention," snarled Snape.

Draco cradled his injured hands and slowly smiled. Things were looking up.

* * *

"I'm still not sure about this. It seems awfully risky." Hermione was holding a Flying-Replying, a device wizards used to communicate over distances, that the Weasley twins had sent to Ron at his request, but she was looking at Draco.

Draco had spent the prior night in detention under Snape's baleful gaze. Despite Granger and Weasley's prying, he'd refused to disclose the reasons for the scene he'd caused during Potions, saying only that it was necessary. He still had one more night of detention left.

He and Hermione were currently in the Slytherin boys' dormitory and Draco felt at home, but Hermione was obviously not nearly as comfortable. While Draco lounged on Potter's bed, which in his world had belonged to him, Hermione kept sitting down, only to stand up a moment later. She would pick up the book they'd stolen from the Restricted Section of the library only to place it back down without actually reading anything.

"I don't know why'd you think it's risky." Draco said. "Just because we're dealing with a basilisk that can kill us and a Progiscor trying to kill us doesn't mean it's risky."

"I stand corrected. I should've said death-defying." Hermione picked up the Flying-Replying and stuck the round piece in her ear. "We should probably test these out again. If they break down, you won't be able to hear us. Then you truly will be flying blind."

Draco got to his feet, walked to where Hermione stood, and gently removed the device from her ear. "We've tested them three times. Even when Harry and I flew miles past Hogsmeade, we could still hear you and Ron in the castle perfectly."

"It wouldn't hurt to do it one more--"

"Granger. Stop."

"I can't help it. Do you know what Ron gave me an hour ago? A letter he'd written to his parents. He told me if anything happens to him, I should make sure they get it. Crabbe and Goyle both gave me notes last night."

"That reminds me..." Draco dug into his pocket and handed Hermione an envelope.

Hermione glanced at it, then quickly looked up to examine his face. "It's addressed to me."

"So it is."

"Shouldn't this be for your mother?"

"Remember the day of the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match? You asked for me to one day explain everything. Seeing how there is an extremely slight possibility that I might be unable to do so, I've written it down for you."

"Draco, you didn't have to--"

"I wanted to. There are things that you don't know about; things you'll never know. But I do need to tell you this: I have appreciated our friendship."

Cupping her chin with his hand, Draco leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on Hermione's lips. At that moment, the door to the dormitory opened and Ron, Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle spilled into the room.

"What's this, Malfoy? After my girl?" Ron teased as the couple broke apart.

Smiling Draco looped his arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her close. "It's all part of my evil plot."

"What's your plot supposed to accomplish?"

Shrugging, Draco released Hermione and returned to Potter's bed, flinging himself down on it. "Haven't quite figured that part out yet. But it will be brilliant, I guarantee it."

Walking up to his bed, Harry stared down at the blond currently laid out on it. "Move."

Draco in response stretched, lifting his arms above his head and arching, before relaxing back with a satisfied air.

Harry gulped, then, with renewed determination, nudged Draco in the ribs. "I meant get your carcass off my bed."

Lazy, smoky eyes rose to meet Harry's. "I could be persuaded to share it."

Before Harry could think of a reply, Crabbe asked Hermione if she'd discovered anything else about the Progiscor from the book he'd found.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "What did you boys find out?"

"Its just as we suspected," said Ron, pushing Draco's feet off the end of the bed and sitting down. " They're planning to gather us all in the dungeons tomorrow night for our protection. No one's saying anything about the Progiscor, though." Ron bounced up and down, then frowned. "Hey, these mattresses are softer than ours."

"Slytherins have the best of everything," Draco drawled proudly as he stuck his feet in Ron's lap, where they were quickly pushed off.

The others stared at him and Draco realised that, once again, he'd said the wrong thing.

"That's...that's because Slytherins need them, since Slytherins are...soft and not tough, and manly like us Gryffindors."

Harry pushed at his shoulder. "Get your tough and manly arse off of my bed."

With a show of reluctance, Draco rolled off the mattress and stood. "Might as well. We do need to start practising, Potter. Hermione, in our absence I expect for you to continue coaching Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle."

Ron groaned. "You don't know her, Draco. She can be so mean. She said my wall looked as if it were made of custard."

"You think she's mean? Would you rather I coach you, Weasley?" Draco asked, his voice low and silky.

Ron shook his head vigorously. "No, that's okay. Really it is."

"Good, so glad we understand one another. Come, Potter, let's be off." Draco started for the door, then paused. "Crabbe, Goyle, last night in detention Snape acted rather odd. Tonight I'd like for you to come for me at ten o'clock sharp."

Vince and Gregory glanced at Harry, who gave them his tacit permission with a nod, before they agreed. Hermione, however, was frowning at this exchange. She started to say something, but Draco held up a hand, stopping her.

"Leave it alone, Granger. Believe me, sometimes knowledge is not a good thing."

With a swirl of his robes, Draco strode out the door, Harry following in his wake.

* * *

"Serpentsortia."

A large snake emerged from Draco's wand and slithered on the grass of the field near Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest where they'd let the shandle-pops from Care of Magical Creatures class burrow.

Harry backed away from it. "Do we have to do this again?"

"It'd be easier if you were a Parselmouth. Are you sure you can't talk to snakes?"

Eyeing the creature as if it was poisonous, which it was, Harry replied. "Positive."

Draco shrugged. "No help for it, then. Good thing you're only my back up. Now transfigure that stone in your hand to a mouse." Draco glanced at the snake. "Do hurry up. It appears to be growing agitated."

As Harry waved his wand, chanting a spell, a mouse replaced the stone in his hand.

"Perfect. Hold it out by its tail and repeat after me." Draco emitted a hissing noise which Harry did his best to copy.

The snake stopped coiling itself in the grass and began to move toward the mouse that Harry held out.

"That's right, that's right. Now say the other phrase we've been practising."

Again, Harry hissed. The snake stopped, then raised its head and opened its mouth expectantly. Harry dropped the mouse, which the snake caught in mid-air, and then uneasily edged away from it.

Waving his wand, Draco said, "Evanesco," and the snake, still swallowing it's meal, vanished.

Harry, breathing a sigh of relief, sank onto the grass. "Can we quit, now?"

"Suppose so, since you've done it three times without fouling it up." Draco lowered himself to the ground next to Harry.

"How'd you learn Parseltongue, anyway?" Harry asked.

Leaning back until he was propped on his elbows, Draco paused for a moment before replying.

"There was a person I once knew who was a Parselmouth."

"A friend?"

"Definitely not."

"A lover?"

Draco ignored the question. "I couldn't stand the thought that he knew something that I didn't."

"Because you're a brat."

"Because I have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge."

"And because you're brat," Harry said with a grin.

"Therefore, I approached my fa...my favourite relative with the idea that I should be taught. I convinced him by--"

"Whining, begging, pleading."

"Stating my case, clearly and concisely and he soon saw the benefit."

"The main one being that you would shut up."

Sitting up straight and folding his arms across his chest, Draco frowned at Harry. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

Harry uttered an insincere "Sorry".

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously, before continuing. "A portrait of Nathaniel P. Meltmont, a known Parselmouth, was found. We requested that he teach me. At first he was reluctant, but soon saw that it was in his best interest to do as we wished."

Harry looked startled. "Did you torture a painting?"

"Of course not. That would be...crude. In fact, Mr. Meltmont's portrait is in excellent condition and is now residing next to a painting of several ladies of questionable virtue. But I did manage to learn a few phrases and spent most of the summer after turning thirteen outside, practising with garden snakes."

"Oh." Harry thought for a moment. "What happened to him?"

At Draco's look of confusion, Harry added, "The one who spoke Parseltongue. The one you were jealous of."

"He realised that he was a complete and utter git and died of mortification."

"No, really...what happened?"

Draco took a deep breath, and pondered ways to answer as Harry watched him curiously. Finally, Draco sighed. "He went about his life and I went about mine with both of us hating the other without even thinking of the reasons why any more."

"Well, that's pretty stupid. You could try being friends."

Shaking his head, Draco replied, "That's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible. We're friends, aren't we? And if the two of us can be friends, then anything's possible."

Bemused at Harry's attitude, Draco slowly shook his head. "How in the world did you ever get sorted into Slytherin?"

Immediately Harry stiffened, the smile dropping from his face to be replaced with an expression as hard as stone. "I don't want to talk about it."

Arching an eyebrow at the sudden change, Draco wondered what sore spot he'd managed to poke. Filing that question away, he decided to avoid the subject for the time being.

"In any case, the point is probably moot now. Even if we survive the Progiscor, it's highly unlikely that I'll ever see him again."

Draco watched as his companion began pulling grass out by the roots, letting the blades fall from his fingers, only to pull out another handful. Something was bothering Harry. He decided that he should probably coax it out of the boy; subtly find out what was worrying him.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Draco did not do subtle.

"I don't like your plan."

"My plan is brilliant. A masterpiece of cunning. All of you should bow before my greatness."

"It's going to get you killed."

"A minor imperfection."

"I'm serious. You're going to die."

"Why, Potter, I didn't know you cared."

Exasperated, Harry flung himself against Draco, knocking him flat on his back in the grass, with Harry sprawled on top of him.

"I care. I...care a lot."

Draco realised he'd seen that same look of determination that Harry was wearing before. The Harry in his old world usually wore it when he wanted to pound Draco into the ground instead of...wanting to pound him into the ground. As their eyes met, it occurred to him that he now had the freedom to touch without resorting to fists and elbows, hate and violence.

Reaching up, he brushed back Potter's dark fringe, fingertips skimming over the smooth skin where the scar wasn't. With the edge of a nail, he delicately scored a lightning bolt into the flesh, leaving a ghostly white imprint that quickly faded. He did it again, this time lifting his head to taste the mark with his tongue before it disappeared.

Harry shuddered on top of him as Draco moved his mouth to an ear, teasing it with his breath. His lips nibbled down the slope of Harry's neck and then around, until he reached the notch of the collarbone. Sweat pooled there and Draco lapped it up.

Above him, Harry dragged in ragged gulps of air as his fingers dug deeply into Draco's shoulders. With a muffled roar, Harry kissed him hard, forcing his head back to the earth with nips and bites. A tongue invaded his mouth, pushing past lips that were too slow to open.

Devoured. Taken. Absorbed. He could feel Potter on top of him, his weight heavy, sinking into him, long legs trapping him, a hard length pressing against his hip through their clothes and robes. While he sent one hand threading through messy hair, the other skated down a well-muscled back, finally arriving at Harry's arse where it paused to touch and explore.

Harry broke the kiss to gasp, quickly followed by a low moan. Part of Draco wanted to know what it would take to make him whimper and resolved to find out. Thrusting upwards, he heard a small groan and realised it was his own seconds before his mouth was captured again.

He could hear their clothes crinkle and scratch as they rubbed against each other, his blood was pounding out a wild, wicked beat, wet noises were coming from frantic movements of lips, tongue, and teeth. Above everything he could hear...Weasley?

"Didn't know there was that much tongue involved in learning Parseltongue," Ron said loudly.

"Harry does seem to have picked it up quite well," Hermione added.

Leaping off of him, Harry turned his back on the newcomers and began smoothing and straightening his robes. Draco, however, remained where he was, doing nothing to hide his state.

He glared at Weasley and Granger. "You will both die. Slowly, painfully, and so extraordinarily messily that it will take weeks to scrape up all of your parts."

The pair had the audacity to laugh at him.

That was another problem with being a Gryffindor, Draco thought. None of his death threats were taken seriously.

* * *

A few minutes before ten o'clock at night, Draco put the last of the cleaning supplies away. Professor Snape had used his detention to eradicate the mess that the third year students had made earlier in the day. Making a mental note to hex the next third year he came across, Draco straightened his shoulders and headed for Snape.

This wasn't something he wanted to do. It wasn't something he'd ever thought of doing, even when the Potions Master had been someone he actually liked. But tomorrow night was the night of the full moon, the night the Progiscor would rise, and this needed to be accomplished.

Snape, busy marking essays at his desk, glanced up as he approached. "You still have two minutes left, Mister Malfoy. I do hope you don't expect to leave early."

Giving him a slow smile, Draco reached out, letting his hand cover Snape's where it lay on the desk.

"How about if I leave later." Wetting his lips, he added, "Much later."

With a sneer, Snape rose from his chair and drew himself up to his full height. "What is this? Some sort of joke, Mister Malfoy?"

Raising his wand, Draco murmured, "Impedo Memoria".

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Now why would you want our memories obscured so that they can never be placed in a pensieve?"

Draco stepped closer and did his best to flutter his eyelashes. When he realised that it was making it hard for him to see, he gave it up. "I want this memory to be ours and ours alone." He took another step until his robes brushed against Snape's and whispered huskily, "Our first night together."

"Have you gone mad?" Snape backed away, only to find Draco following him.

"I've seen how you watch me. Always there, hovering over me, undressing me with your eyes."

"I have never--"

"And I know that you've seen me doing the same to you. Imagining your...your large, throbbing...manhood."

Eyebrows arched. "Manhood?" An idea seemed to dawn on Snape. "The head injury, of course. It must have been much more serious than we thought."

Draco shook his head. "It's not my head. I...I just can't keep denying our destiny to be together."

"You should go to the Infirmary. In fact, I insist that you see Madam Pomfrey at once."

"It's not my bloody head," Draco snarled, then tried to get back on track. "If I'm not well, it's because I am consumed by my lust for you."

"Perhaps St. Mungo's might be a better choice."

"Bloody hell! I'm trying to seduce you, you stupid twit." Draco could hear heavy footsteps in the hall outside the door. He grabbed Snape's robes and pulled him close so that their faces were next to each other. "Now come here, you greasy lump of wizard, you."

With a sudden lunge forward, Draco kissed Snape, still holding his robes tightly so he couldn't escape. It was only as it occurred to Draco that Snape was fairly talented at this activity that Crabbe and Goyle walked in.

Releasing Snape, Draco turned to them. "Leave," he ordered.

The pair, whose eyes were bugging out, took even longer than normal to process the request. Looking at one another, they made a decision and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Their squeals of amazement could be heard as they went back down the hall.

"Ah...now I understand," Snape said as he brushed the wrinkles from his robes that Draco's grip had created and headed for his desk. "This is to be blackmail, then."

"Blackmail is such a dirty word." Draco smiled. "That must be why I like it so much."

Snape sat down in his chair and idly tapped his fingers on his desk. "State your terms."

This wasn't going quite right, Draco thought. Snape should be upset or angry, not acting rather bored. When Draco didn't answer straight away, Snape sighed in exasperation.

"Come now, Mister Malfoy. There must be terms, some goal you were hoping to achieve with this little drama you staged. Out with it or be on your way."

"Aren't you at all worried?" Draco cocked his head and studied the Professor. "The Hogwarts Governors would fire you for having a relationship with a student."

"Thus barring me from a job I detest."

"It would ruin your reputation."

"One advantage of having a reputation such as mine is that it can never be ruined." Snape let his eyes wander down Draco's body. "I dare say, the idea that I could lure you to my bed would only serve to enhance it."

"Then why do you want to bother to hear my terms?" Draco asked angrily.

"Call it curiosity. Mister Malfoy, I have been Head of Slytherin for years. Do you have any concept at all of the number of times my students have attempted to blackmail me? This, however, is the first time a Gryffindor has tried. A quite remarkable effort, too, though certainly not flawless."

With a huff, Draco plopped down on a chair and crossed his arms. "I thought it was flawless."

Snape sniffed. "Obviously it was not. So what's it to be? Do you need a special potion brewed?" Snape looked pointedly at Draco's crotch. "Perhaps to enhance certain characteristics."

"I don't need a potion to...to do anything. I'm perfectly satisfied with my characteristics as they are."

"Really?" drawled Snape.

"Yes!" Taking a deep breath, Draco tried to calm down. "If you must know, my friends and I have determined that tomorrow night there will be an attack on Hogwarts and the students will be sent to the dungeons for protection. We aren't going."

"So you were planning to blackmail me to make sure that your absence was not noted."

"Exactly." Draco leaned forward and met Snape's eyes. "It's very important that we be allowed to do this."

Snape considered for a moment, then nodded. "I'll allow it. On one condition. Tell me of your relationship with Mister Potter."

"You really are a perv, aren't you?'

Scowling, Snape waved the remark away. "Mister Potter has the potential to be a powerful wizard. His background, being raised by Muggles, a deceased mother, a father who has practically abandoned him, while not unique, is quite worrisome. I must know. Are you serious about him?"

Solemnly, Draco nodded. "Since the moment I laid eyes on him, I have always taken Harry Potter extremely seriously."

"You care for him?"

Slowly, steadily, Draco answered. "Yes, I care for him."

Releasing a held breath, Snape leaned back in his chair. "You and your friends will not go missing in tomorrow night's count."

"Good." Draco rose to leave.

"Mister Malfoy?" Snape said, and Draco turned to face him. "Other than the fact that I cannot be blackmailed, your plan did have one serious flaw."

"Which was?"

A smirk spread over Snape's face. "By now, Misters Crabbe and Goyle have informed Mister Potter that you were kissing me. Have a pleasant evening."

Draco made sure that he slammed the door on his way out.

* * *

After leaving the Potions classroom, Draco headed for the Slytherin dormitory where he found the password changed. Not letting that stop him, he pounded on the door, yelling threats to anyone within listening distance about what he would do if they didn't open up immediately.

He'd been going down the list of hexes alphabetically and had arrived at Grotesque Putrefaction when the door swung open and Bulstrode faced him.

"Potter's not here," she said smugly.

"I just want to talk with him." Draco began to push past her, but she moved to block his way.

"He's not here," she repeated. "He fought with Crabbe and Goyle and stormed out. It was quite entertaining. He called them liars, like the two of them would have the brains to come up with a lie."

Clenching his fists, Draco glared at her. "Where'd he go?"

Bulstrode tossed her hair back. "I haven't the slightest idea, nor do I care."

Draco was turning away when she spoke again. "The new password is 'Malfoy sucks'."

He looked at the triumphant grin on her face.

"Harry changed it," Bulstrode said then shut the door.

* * *

At first, Draco didn't see Harry slumped in the corner of the darkened Charms classroom and thought he'd read the map wrong. He'd searched for close to an hour after leaving Slytherin before remembering the magical map he'd shoved into his trouser pocket when they'd spied on the staff. It had never been turned off, so after retrieving it from his room, it had taken him only a short while to locate Harry.

When Harry lifted his head, Draco was taken aback by the fury barely constrained there.

"I want my map back."

Draco stepped closer. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Harry got to his feet and stuck out a hand expectantly. "My map?"

Draco held it out and Harry took it, careful to grasp it by an end so that their fingers didn't brush. Efficiently rolling it up, he placed it inside his robes. "You shouldn't have used it to find me. Not right, using my own map against me."

"I was worried about you."

Harry let out a short, bitter bark of laughter. "Worried about me? I doubt you even spared me a thought."

Moving closer, Draco shook his head. "That's not true. I think about you all the time."

"Did you think about me when you were kissing Snape?" Harry snarled.

Hands shoved Draco back hard. Then a second time. On the third time, his back hit the wall of the room.

"You did kiss him didn't you?" Harry pushed his face close to Draco's. "That wasn't a lie, was it?"

"Yes. I kissed him," Draco confessed quietly.

A harsh groan of pain was torn from Harry, but was masked almost immediately by a cry of anger.

"What's next? Are you going to feed me a story and watch me swallow it like an idiot? Go ahead, Draco. Explain it all away."

Draco studied Harry's face. There was fury there and hurt, and a hint of desperate hope that none of this was real. He could make it better, Draco knew. He could explain it to Harry and make him understand.

He opened his mouth to start when he realised something deep inside. He didn't want to have to explain.

"No," Draco said, loudly and clearly.

At first, Harry didn't understand. "What?"

Draco pushed Harry away from him. "I said 'No', Potter. I'm not going to explain."

"You're not going to make it better?"

"Better? I don't make things better. How about it if I make it worse? Snape was one hell of a kisser. You should try him out some time."

Harry reeled back. "Don't you care about me? About what I think?'

"Of course I care," Draco spat. A familiar surge of rage swept over him and he made an effort to resist the urge to knock Potter on his arse. "I care more than you can imagine. But I'm not going to explain. I shouldn't have to. You should trust me."

"Trust you?"

"Yes. Trust me." Still simmering, Draco headed for the door.

"What if I can't?" he heard Harry say behind him.

"Then it's your loss."

Draco slammed the door as he left. It was definitely a door slamming night.

* * *

As Draco marched into the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, the thunderous look on his face kept all of the brave Gryffindors away. Unfortunately, that still left the stupid ones to bother him.

A fifth-year asked where he'd been. Draco hit him with a jelly legs hex. A fourth-year asked what was wrong and was soon spitting up slugs. Another student, who hadn't said a word but had been in the general vicinity, found himself with a nasty case of warts.

Hermione decided to step in before the things got too bad. She took one look at Draco's face and pulled him into her arms for a hug.

"What can I do to help?" she whispered against his chest. Draco shook his head and returned her embrace.

"Was it Snape? Should I get Harry for you?" Hermione offered, leaning back so that she could look at him while stroking his cheek with a hand.

"Harry and I..." Draco's was unable to say more. Emotions clogged his throat, making it difficult to breathe. Hermione waited until Draco managed to choke out, "He doesn't trust me."

Hermione looked around the room at the hexed students. "Imagine that." Sighing, she pulled Draco toward the boys' dormitory. "You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

"I'll feel better after I let loose a few thousand curses. Or kick the stuffing out of someone."

Patting his back comfortingly, she nodded. "Well, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville are already in bed. Why don't you wake them up and see if they can help you with that?"

She watched him go up the stairs with renewed vigour. A few minutes later, as Hermione cured the warts from the unlucky student, she could hear thumps, crashes, and a large variety of swear words coming from overhead.

Hermione smiled. Recently, Draco had made life in Gryffindor very interesting.

* * *