The Art of Seduction

~*~

Chapter Four: Subtlety is Key

~*~

`...Of course, one must keep in mind the art of subtle flirtation. Some targets are more reluctant than others and any false move may only serve to distance them from you further, impeding your progress for perhaps days at a time. Subtlety is key if you want to get anywhere. It is important to remain patient, as this may seem an unusually long process. ´

~*~

It was unusually warm that day, as Summer was making a flourishing cameo that was quite uncalled for. Birds were chirping their merry serenades as the students of Hogwarts played their impromptu games of Quidditch, joined hands and sang, picked flowers, or simply frolicked merrily (singing tra-la-la-la-la) over the lush greenery of the Hogwarts grounds.

Or so Harry imagined. He wouldn´t actually know, since he was trapped inside a dungeon on this beautiful day, brewing a potion with his arch-nemesis. Life really wasn´t fair, sometimes.

Sunlight slid in through the glass sieves of the few windows that existed, lending a vague sort of light to the Potions classroom. Though it was mid-afternoon, Harry had an illusory sense of twilight as the soft grey fumes rose from the cauldron and simmered over the sides, like dreams slipping from memory. The Potions classroom, thankfully, was cool, being located in the inner sanctums of Hogwarts, away from the scorch of too-bright sun. However, the gentle heat wafting from the boiling cauldron had led both him and Malfoy to divest of their robes and leave them hanging upon nearby chairs, drapes and folds of dark material poured over the wood; curtains of tangible shadows.

Draco observed Harry as he lightly mopped his brow with the back of his hand, brushing away the dark strands of hair that simply defied him seconds later. Harry-watching had become his new pastime, or so it appeared, and he found himself noticing little things he never had before. For one thing, he noticed how, when carefully scrutinised, Potter wasn´t very physically attractive at all. He had those large, striking green eyes, of course, but they were often obscured behind those ridiculously large glasses, so that one couldn´t appreciate them properly. He had that thick, glossy, black hair, but that was always so unruly that it seemed a nesting place for winged creatures rather than something one would like to run one´s fingers through, not to mention that the just-got-out-of-bed chic was so last year. His features, while not outright ugly, were certainly nothing special to speak of: while his nose wasn´t crooked, it hardly classified as sculpted or noble, and his lips were plain, neither thin nor full, but right in the middle. His only redeeming quality was perhaps his cheekbones, which lent his face some artistic form. He seemed the epitome of the gawky Boy Next Door, good and wholesome and utterly boring. He was average, nothing more, nothing less. Certainly nothing special.

However, something wasn´t quite right with that. Harry Potter, if anything, was one of the most eligible bachelors in the school. After Draco Malfoy himself, of course. However, while Draco revelled in his own sexuality (as did everybody else), for Harry it was understated and unacknowledged. That was his appeal, Draco realised. He was charming in his innocence, untainted with a sort of quiet, awkward grace, the way first love was supposed to be: fumbling, idealistic, naïve, sincere and oh-so-sweet. Draco, in contrast, was experienced; he knew what to do and just how to do it. While Draco´s knowledge made him dangerous, it was Harry´s complete obliviousness that made him just as potent as the blonde, perhaps even more so. And Draco wanted to claim that innocence for his own. All within the remaining twenty-something days, course.

The past couple of days had seemed to go by quickly, with a similar agenda: every day, a new poem to write, a bunch of roses for Harry, then tutoring sessions in the afternoon, and reading a couple of chapters in a romance novel before bed. It was difficult to tell if he was actually making any progress or not; Harry didn´t seem to act any differently towards him, and if he thought about Draco in any sort of way other than general dislike, he sure didn´t show it. He wasn´t even sure if he had advanced to the level of casual indifference. On the other hand, the roses and poetry were causing Potter to be the attention and envy of about half of the student population in the school, as well as arousing quite a bit of curiosity as to the identity of the secret admirer.

As the first week neared its end, one would have expected Draco to expedite his method. However, he found himself that he wasn´t too bothered by this fact. He still had three weeks remaining, and he knew that he couldn´t afford to run the risk of rushing the process. It was difficult to make the transcendence from complete and bitter rivalry to a relationship of a romantic nature. Any false move in gaining Harry´s like and affections could easily put him a colossal leap backwards. He had to be both careful and subtle in words and actions; anything too blatantly flirtatious was certain to scare Harry away, and anything too antagonistic would only increase the resentment and dislike Harry had built over the last several years, pushing Draco further away from his goal.

So far, he thought he was doing rather well, actually. After all, he hadn´t overdone it...yet. The right comments always flustered Harry in such a delightful manner that Draco found it to be almost endearing. The sweet, artless Gryffindor didn´t know it, of course, but he tended to colour oh-so-nicely, which only added to the appeal of his innocence. Draco really did like to see him blush, he realised. The effect, while not really pretty or handsome, was actually kind of...cute. Cute in the way that one might find a pet. He allowed himself a small smile at this thought. Yes, the Great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, as Draco Malfoy´s pet...now *there* was an amusing thought if he ever had one. Perhaps they might even change his nickname to Harry Potter, Boy Who Lic--

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Harry demanded. Malfoy smiled that enigmatic smile that he had been wearing more and more the past couple of days, as if he held some great secret that Harry would never know, or never be able to comprehend. It was extremely infuriating (not to mention annoying) and Harry had come to loathe it just as much (if not more so) than Malfoy´s customary smirks and sneers. Although the Slytherin was no longer abrasively cruel, he was now slyly snide, voicing all sorts of mysterious comments that discomfited Harry in such a way that he almost wished for his rival´s past personality. At least with that version of Malfoy, he had known what to expect. The new (but far from improved) Draco Malfoy was dangerously unpredictable, a riddle wrapped in mystery shrouded in enigma, so to speak. That was hazardous; it left Harry with a highly uncomfortable sentiment of vulnerability when his nemesis knew him so well and he suddenly didn´t know the other at all. How could he defend himself, much less fight back, when he didn´t know what he was up against? Worse yet, the blonde seemed to know it, too, and almost lorded his knowledge and mystique over Harry, which was increasingly agitating. At least that aspect of Malfoy hadn´t changed: he still held a characteristic air of arrogance and sang-froid that was at once irritating and something to be admired.

Draco, on the other hand, was finding that, much to his surprise, tutoring sessions proved to be thoroughly enjoyable. First of all, he had the pleasure of ordering Potter around and Gryffindor´s Golden Boy pretty much had to obey him without question. Ah, if only he could use this superpower for evil....or to suit his own purposes. Oh, well. Couldn´t have everything. Secondly, he had found a new way to get under Potter´s skin, and the boy did flush in a quite fetching manner (as previously mentioned). Not to mention the fact that Potter torture of any sort was just about 100 percent guaranteed to be a good time. Thirdly, he was such a difficult challenge, and Draco always did love challenges; all resistance that he met now only sweetened his inevitable victory. All things considered, Draco found the situation both amusing and entertaining.

"That´s not how you do it at all. Honestly, Harry, can´t you get anything right?" The otherwise brutal accusation was somewhat softened by usage of Potter´s first name. Balance and subtlety, it´s all about balance and subtlety. He languidly moved behind Harry, taking the other boy´s hand in his as he guided him in stirring the ingredients into the simmering cauldron properly. He stood so close to the guileless Gryffindor that he was almost pressing himself against the other boy´s back. All in the name of education, of course. He resisted the temptation to act upon instinct and just press himself fully against his target, reminding himself that subtlety was key. He was lucky...no, not lucky, skilled--luck had little to do with it--in just being able to be this close to Potter without getting shoved away, which was undoubtedly what would have happened mere days ago. Yes, he had to remember not to be too forward, lest he scare away his prey. In fact, one might even compare Harry to a steed not yet broken in, skittish and scared, and the slightest sudden movement would make him shy.

Now there´s a stud I wouldn´t mind riding, a certain inner voice piped up.

Down, Boy, Draco sternly chastised. A Malfoy always had perfect control, after all. Well, along with perfect everything else: perfect composure, perfect hair, perfect looks, perfect body...

...perfectly raging hormones...

That solicited from him an inward smirk, feeling rather glad that the Boy Wonder didn´t possess the power of telepathy. After all, that was the last thing he wanted Potter to know if he didn´t want to scare him away. However, with the other boy in such close parameters, it was awfully tempting... Draco licked his lips, leaned in, and...

"How about you get some Honey-balls?" the blonde whispered into his ear, breath hot and lush.

"W-What did you just say?!" Harry squeaked, face flushing a scarlet that seemed to go well with his tie, very nearly jumping away.

"I said, we´re all out of Honey-balls extract," Draco stated in a matter-of-fact manner, detaching himself from Harry´s side to pick up the empty translucent yellow-greenish bottle and peer into it. "Go check the supply closet for some, would you?" Noticing his companion´s blank look, which spoke volumes of confusion, he sighed and explained patiently, "You know, Honey-balls. The spherical, white flower heads of the buttonbush?"

"Oh," said Harry, looking rather relieved.

"Why?" Draco asked, silver eyes wide and a bit too innocent. "What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing," Harry answered, his pink-cheeked flush suggesting that it most likely wasn´t `nothing´. "I´ll just go into the closet now." At the Slytherin´s smirk, he quickly added, "I mean, to get some Honey-balls." He blushed even further as he realised the words that he had just uttered. "I mean...Oh, bugger it all, you know what I mean!" His face a bright crimson, he pushed past the blonde and made his way over to the closet. God, he hated Malfoy.

The supply closet was not extremely large, but large enough to fulfil its purposes. The walls inside were lined with shelves, stocked full with carefully inventoried potions and ingredients. Harry skimmed the labels, looking for a vial similar to the one that Malfoy had held up to the light. "...Holly berries, crushed; dried hollyhock; powdered holmium; hominy; Homoptera shells...homunculus bones...Honan shreds...dried honewort, honey. Honey ants; honeycomb moths; honeycreeper, feathers of; honeycreeper, heart of; honey eater, honey guide, honey locusts..." Harry frowned. Honey-balls extract was obviously nowhere to be found. "Malfoy!" he called. "It´s not here!"

Sparse moments later Draco appeared at the doorway, leaning against the frame with a rather bemused smirk on his face. The outside light silhouetted his form in contrast to the dimness of the closet, making the pale boy seem to radiate angelic luminosity. Harry blanched at his own mental description, quickly squelching the thought. (It eeped as he put it out.) Comparing Malfoy to a heavenly creature...That was just wrong.

"What do you mean, it´s not there? It has to be there."

"Well, it isn´t! Why don´t you come in and see for yourself?" Harry snapped irritably.

Draco took on a look of mild surprise, pressing his hand to his chest. "Why, Harry Potter," he coyly remarked, "did you just ask me into the closet with you to look for Honey-balls?"

Harry was glad that the closet was as dark as it was, although he was almost certain his face was glowing the vermilion shade of a Christmas light bulb. "I loathe you," he spat out.

Draco merely grinned at him, "Love you, too, Sweetcheeks."

Harry shuddered violently. "Just get in here, all right?"

"My, my, aren´t we butch?" Draco obviously couldn´t resist querying, even as he stepped inside the closet to stand beside Harry.

As he moved away, the door swung smoothly upon its well-oiled hinges, shutting with a rather audible click.

Darkness fell upon them like a velvet cloak thrown from somewhere above. Other than the fine threads of light that drew across the top and hung from the door to the floor, emanating a thin outside glow, they were in complete blackness. Their eyes met in the sudden absence of light, looking at first each other and then the door.

"You don´t think that it´s..."

"It wouldn´t be..." Draco reached for the doorknob, twisting it in both directions. There was a metallic, mechanical clattering, but no movement. He attempted to first push, then pull, then try a combination of both. The door didn´t budge. "Locked."

"God, Malfoy, this isn´t the time to be joking. That´s not funny, you know."

"I´m not joking. Try it for yourself." Though Draco made an effort to move out of the way, Harry could barely squeeze by him, and it was impossible to avoid some sort of intimate contact, even as Harry edged by sideways. As he tried the knob for himself, he realised two very crucial issues: 1.) Malfoy was telling the truth and 2.) The closet was really small. Both of these facts filled him with a heavy sense of foreboding that sank stone-like to the depths of his stomach.

"I know!" Harry exclaimed. "We´ll use Alohomora!" His hands instinctively tried to slip into his pockets, but then realised that he had taken off his robe. "Malfoy, my robe...it´s outside."

"So?"

"My wand is in my robe."

There was the sound of flesh meeting flesh from next to him, undoubtedly that of Malfoy´s palm meeting his forehead. "So is mine."

"Great, just great. We can´t even use Lumos to see in here." Not that there was much to see, anyway. He could make out the form of Malfoy, just barely, but that was merely because the other boy was so close to him. He certainly didn´t need light to know that he was there; they were so close that Harry could feel his presence, a presence that he had become frighteningly familiar with in the last couple of days. Oh, well. At least now Draco was limited to punning material, thankfully eliminating the horribly overused line: `Is that your wand in your robe or are you just happy to see me?´

"Well," Draco declared, "I think it´s safe to say that the two of us are definitely well-closeted."

Of course, leave it to Draco Malfoy to be resourceful.

Harry rolled his eyes, even though he knew that Malfoy couldn´t see his expression. "You are incorrigible."

He could hear the grin in his rival´s voice as he rebuffed, "Then don´t incorrige me." Harry swore that he could sense the grin widen, and thus he could tell that was not going to like whatever it was that Malfoy had to say next, before the blonde even said it. "Besides, I´m living out the fantasy of nearly every post-pubescent Hogwarts student: in the closet with Harry Potter. Does it get any better than this?"

Harry was suddenly reminded of one of Seamus´s attempts during fifth year to get the Gryffindors to play a game entitled `Seven Minutes in Heaven´. Basically, two participants were chosen at random to be locked in the closet for seven minutes. During that span of time, they were supposed to get in as much snogging/fooling around/mindless groping as possible. Harry had been paired up with Hermione, but since both were so against the game in general, the dreaded event had never come to pass. Of course, up until this moment he had never really wondered what it would be like to be trapped into a small, enclosed space with someone, completely in the dark, with all your friends expecting the two of you to `get it on´...

NO. He was not thinking about Malfoy like that. That´s just...gross. Eww.

"Maybe it doesn´t get any better for a twisted bugger like you, Malfoy, but I think I´ve died and gone to Hell."

Harry swore that he could almost see Malfoy leer. "Why? Is it getting a bit too hot in here for you?" The blonde stepped just the slightest bit closer as he voiced the words, moving so fluidly that Harry barely had time to back up. And, ironically, he swore that he felt the temperature of the closet rise just a degree or two. Maybe I´m just a bit too open to the power of suggestion.

That, of course, could not be a good thing, so the wisest thing to do at the moment was to change the subject. "So, when do you think someone will come and rescue us?" The irony in his own words struck him: he was the Hero, he was supposed to be the one doing the rescuing, not being rescued. Well, it wasn´t as if he had asked to be the Hero; the role had been thrust upon him. However, he couldn´t quite wrap his mind around the image of himself as a `damsel in distress´. (A mental image of himself in a flowing pink gown wearing a veiled cap did absolutely nothing to help matters.) However, as he reflected upon the current situation, he had to admit that he really was in distress, and he really did need to be rescued from his current plight. From an evil dragon, nonetheless.

Said antagonist didn´t move away, and, if anything, rather seemed to shift so that he -almost--settled against Harry. Yeah, definitely need to be rescued. "Well, Vince and Greg know that I have to tutor you, so they´ll probably just figure that the session went a little over. I would suggest the same of your precious Granger, if not Weasley."

Harry bristled, and was about to speak in Ron´s defence when he realised, "Wait...that means we could be here until dinnertime, when they notice we´re gone?"

"I´m afraid so."

"That´s four hours from now!" Harry cried, stricken.

"Three and a half," Draco corrected. "Don´t be dramatic."

"Well, what are we supposed to do until then?"

He didn´t need to see Draco to know that he smirked. "Well, what do two virile young men our age do when they´re trapped in the closet together?" His tone was almost innocent, in a way. Almost.

That statement brought all sorts of not-so-innocent images to Harry´s mind, none of them welcome. Rather than combat it, he decided the best course of action was to distract attention with something less...well, disturbing. "I´m going to try and find something we can light. Move it, will you?"

The blonde stepped aside slightly, not really enough to allow Harry any room as he tried, once again, to get by without brushing so damn close up against the other boy. Once again, Harry failed miserably, unable to fight that hot rush to his face as their bodies made intimate contact. His chest brushing against Malfoy´s, Malfoy´s thigh shifting between his legs, Malfoy´s hand on his...

"Malfoy! That´s my...!" Harry cried, blushing furiously now.

"Sorry, accident."

For some inexplicable reason, Harry found this neither very convincing nor very assuring. Then something occurred to him.

Taking a deep breath, he stilled his body and asked, slowly, patiently, "Would you mind removing your hand, then?"

"No problem."

A slight pause.

"As in now?"

"Oh, sorry."

He didn´t sound very sorry, but that was just Harry´s opinion, and what did he know?

Feeling extremely cross, Harry turned to face the shelves determinedly. It was then that he noticed the faint, greenish glow that seemed to come from a middle shelf. Moving in, he pushed several jars out of the way as the light started to increase. Finally, the source was revealed: a glass jar full of...something radiating a pale jade light. "Malfoy, what´s this?"

"Hmm?" The blonde came up behind him, a bit too close for comfort. Then again, one couldn´t afford much comfort if one was confined within the area of a closet. "Oh! Of course! Luminescent Limaxi, how could I have forgotten?"

"Luminescent lee-what?"

"Luminaxi for short. They´re more commonly called Glowing Gastropods."

"..." A rather intelligent blank stare.

"Glow-in-the-Dark Slugs, Harry."

Harry made a face. "And we would want these why...?"

"Other than their reputed potency in certain potions, they respond to heat. Watch." Draco placed his hands over Harry´s upon the jar, and Harry immediately felt his skin flare at the touch. Likewise, the jar began to emit an jade-tinged flame-like light.

"Wow, we´ll actually be able to see!" Harry exclaimed, raising his eyes to meet those of his forced companion. He was a little (just a little) dumbfounded by the sight that greeted him.

To say that the light was flattering to Draco would be the understatement of the decade. He seemed a being of pale jade and soft surreal shadow, a painting done with the brush of the forests of the night. The glow caressed his already fey features and the moonlike pallor of his skin, spinning his pale-gold hair a strange shade of silver susurration. The stormy greys and blues of his eyes swirled with soft green to become the sea; dark and mysterious with the same siren allure of floating and the same danger of drowning. Green light should have made him look ill and sickly, but this soft phosphorescence leant him an ethereal, otherworldly beauty that was breathtaking and frightening all at once.

Fairy light. The light of the sun through the dark forest leaves and the light of the enchanting moon on bewitched nights...The light of dances in the dew circles in the ink of midnight grass...The light of fireflies glimmering like earthly fallen stars... The light that was green like the hypnotic, seductive glow of Kryptonite, the superhero´s bane.

No one should be allowed to look so beautiful in green.

The silence hung between them, a curtain waiting to be gently brushed aside by the breeze of words from lips unsure. An invisible curtain suspended by the intangible glow.

Draco supposed that what surprised him most were Harry´s eyes. Rather than reflecting the light, they seemed to absorb it, luminous in the darkness. Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright, in the forests of the night...what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? Cat´s eyes, tiger´s eyes, feline and mesmerising, the eyes of something wild and fierce and free. In what distant deeps or skies burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire...?

And it seemed as if the golden threads of a spell had been cast over them, and as if with any spell, there was but one logical way to break free.

A tentative tongue moistened lips that were suddenly very dry-- an act of unconscious invitation. Looking into eyes of liquid luminescence, the blonde was suddenly filled with an urge to take, plunder, possess. It would be so easy to tangle fingers in that midnight silk and drag those lips underneath his, close that gaping black abyss between them. And he would want me to, too. He could see those eyes, half closed, the thick dark lashes fringing interesting shadows in the eerie incandescence, face inclining slightly at a welcoming angle. He could make that skin flush and steal that innocence, capture it and bottle it and store it here.

He had forgotten his surroundings for a moment, wrapped in the veil of glimmering soft velvet-jade. Fairy light. The light of the moon on bewitched nights and the light of dying fireflies and the light that was green like the serpent´s gaze and--

Draco quickly dropped his hands from Harry´s and the glow immediately faded, broken along with the contact. "Hallucinatory properties," Draco quickly said as he cleared his throat, putting as much distance between them as was possible in the limited space. "Luminaxi are known to enhance some senses while dulling others. It´s a defence mechanism to distract potential predators."

Harry blinked and nodded, slightly dazed. What the bloody hell had just happened? For a moment there, Malfoy had seemed the most enchanting being in the world and out of it. And the blonde had been looking at him with a sort of want that had been both terrifying and enthralling simultaneously. Furthermore, he seemed more than ready to act upon it, and Harry found that he wouldn´t have done a thing to stop him. Not only would have he offered no resistance; he might have even welcomed it. Utterly disgusted and disturbed with that idea, he felt a vague sense of claustrophobia and tried to distance himself as inconspicuously as possible. He looked down at the jar in his hands, feeling a sudden animosity towards the creatures inside as they gave off a falsely innocent white light. He considered placing it back upon the shelf-- he preferred the blind darkness to a delusional illumination.

Besides, it wasn´t like Harry was afraid of the dark, having grown up in it for the first ten years of his life. The darkness had become a sanctuary, a type of security. Darkness had been thrust upon him, and it had become his cover, his comfort, his only friend. All that had changed when he was 11, when he was removed from his personal sanctum and placed upon a pedestal in a blinding world of light. However, comfort seemed the farthest thing from his mind at the moment, and when had he ever considered Malfoy´s company comfortable?

Draco frowned as he turned away from the glow, scanning the shelves in front of him without really seeing anything. What the bloody hell was that all about? Opportunity had knocked on his closet door, so to speak, and he had rejected it. Not so much rejected as threw it out through a closed window. Of course, one could argue that it had been for moral reasons, which would have been a rather commendable act, but when had Draco Malfoy ever let morality get in the way of his personal purposes? No, that wasn´t it at all. Perhaps it was his pride; he would have liked to win Harry over by his own charms, rather than magical means. Also, there was the fact that the magical side effects of Luminaxi fell under the category of "forms of magic" that had been banned in the contract he and Blaise had first made. Yes, that must have been it. There was little other explanation.

He felt as if he should say something, but what was there to say? `You should be happy that I didn´t just molest you?´ Somehow, that didn´t seem quite right. Neither could he make a move...subtlety and all that bunk. Consequently, things were getting rather awkward inside the closet.

A sharp clattering made him turn and focus on Harry, who happened to be down on bended knee. Draco shook his head to sweep away any wisps of romantic cobwebs that had been left behind and were brought to attention by that image. In front of the Gryffindor was what appeared to be an elaborately carved cherrywood box.

"What is that?" Draco queried, kneeling down beside Harry.

"I don´t know. I was trying to put the Luminaskee--"

"Luminaxi."

"Whatever....back and I guess I must have knocked it out, somehow. You´re the expert, you tell me what it is."

Draco stared at the box as if he could discern the contents by merely assessing the surface. "Why, it´s the fabled treasure of Slytherin legend old: Snape´s secret liqueur stash! I´ve been looking for this since third year."

"Is it really?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

Draco rattled the chains that twined around the chest like malformed silver snakes. "Only one way to find out...Here, give me the Luminaxi, would you?" Taking the jar, he placed it next to the opening of the chest. "The chains are held together by this lock. Fortunately, it´s a Muggle lock. Unfortunately, it´s a complex combination lock. Normally, this type would be difficult to open without magical means, but luckily for us, I´m familiar with it." The blonde tapped the lock in several different places, then bent down further to hold it up to his ear, slowly rotating the knob. Harry watched in silent fascination as the knob spun and whirred under Draco´s nimble fingers, the lock clicking open after mere seconds. The chains clattered to the floor as Draco undid the lock, holding it up as triumphantly as if he had caught the Golden Snitch. Harry stared at him, blinking in bewilderment.

"May I ask just where did you learn to pick Muggle locks?"

Draco smiled in a manner that wasn´t particularly pleasant, made even more sinister by the now-aqua light. "I had an eclectic education."

"Oh, I see." The lid slowly creaked open, both of them peering inside.

"Scrolls. Lots and lots of scrolls."

Harry sniffed the air tentatively as a strong scent ambushed them. "What is that?"

"It smells like...lavender?" A sly grin. "And we all know what that means."

"No, what?"

"Oh, come on, Potter, you can´t possibly be that innocent."

A blank look was the intelligent reply.

"Haven´t you learned anything from all the thousands upon thousands of flowers, valentines, and fan mail you´ve received?"

"I haven´t received thousands upon thousands..."Harry started, thinking immediately of the anonymous dozen roses that he had been receiving daily.

Draco arched a brow in an expression that clearly read, `Oh, please.´

"Okay, I have received a lot," Harry admitted. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Haven´t you ever wondered what the different flowers or the different perfumes meant?"

"Umm...no? They´re just flowers. And all perfumes smell basically the same to me."

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh, as if he could not believe his companion´s sheer ignorance. "Flowers each have a particular meaning. Roses, obviously, are associated with romance. They have different meanings, however, depending upon colour and stage of development. Peach, for example, is fascination, red rosebuds signify things of both young virtue and loveliness--"

"What about pure-white roses starting to bloom?" Harry suddenly interrupted.

"Innocence and purity, of course. However, there are several other meanings: `I am worthy of you´ or `You´re heavenly´. They can even represent secrecy and silence. The fact that they´re starting to bloom shows signs of a hopefully developing a relationship, or deepening a current one." An almost-knowing smile tugged at the corners of rosebud lips. "Why? Does a certain admirer pique your interest in spite of the legion of simpering fans?"

"First of all, I do not have a legion of simpering fans." At this Draco snorted with contempt. "Secondly, I never asked for them to like me! It´s not like I want all this attention!"

"Right. So you´re trying to tell me you don´t enjoy all the gifts, the flowers, the candy..."

"...the love letters, the threats, the stalking? I´m going to have to say no. How would you like to be followed wherever you go, people watching your every move like some sort of circus freak? How would you like to have admirers and `friends´ simply based upon your name and reputation as opposed to the person you are?"

Draco gave him a level look. "You forget to whom you´re speaking."

"You´re right. I´m so sorry I don´t know how to enjoy the finer things like you, Malfoy."

"You know, fame is wasted on people like you."

"Better wasted on people like me than spent on people like you." There was a slight pause as this comment sunk in.

Draco decided that he didn´t at all like the way this particular conversation was headed, which seemed to be totally conflicting his goal. He decided to steer the conversation back to the actual matter at hand; he hated to be out of control in any situation. "Either way, we´re getting off-topic. Didn´t you want to know about lavender?"

"Fine, tell me about lavender."

"Very well, then. Lavender is considered the premier of all perfume. Its aroma imprint is camphoric, sweet, and rich...with an herbaceous, floral heart and a soft balsamic-wood undertone. Its odour at evaporation is generally a low, middle note. Its effect is both calming and refreshing, and at the same time sensuous."

"How do you know all this?"

"It´s common knowledge among aristocracy, or even anyone with class." Partly out of force of habit, and partly out of conscious antagonism, "Of course, you wouldn´t know anything about that." While he couldn´t afford to really insult Harry on the off chance that the Gryffindor would be too offended, he couldn´t afford to act out of character, either. It was a very contradictory situation.

"Well, excuse me if I don´t know the romantic significance of every little pansy," Harry retorted, managing to say many things at once by deliberately emphasising the last word. "I don´t see how practical that knowledge can be, anyway."

"You´d be surprised," Draco said slyly. "How else would you know the difference between `I think I love you´ and `Let´s have wild, unfettered sex with no complications or strings attached!´?"

"...Can you really do that?"

Draco smiled in a manner that was almost saccharine. "You can do anything if you´ve a mind to it." He leaned back against the door, stretching out his long legs. "I think these should keep us entertained for a while..."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable. We might as well make the best of it, seeing as how we´re going to be here for a while."

"Well, you´re taking up all the space in the closet."

"You´re welcome to join me if you like," Draco suggested with a coy smile.

"Thanks, but I think I´ll pass."

"Fine, suit yourself."

Harry scooted back to lean against the shelf opposite the door, but the protruding racks and bumps made it very difficult to attain anything resembling comfort. Of course, Draco just had to select the only smooth surface available and leave Harry with the rest. Although he tried to maintain his pride by appearing that he was perfectly fine in his current predicament, he was pretty sure that his grimaces of discomfort were giving him away.

"My offer still stands, you know," Draco said with barely concealed amusement as Harry shifted awkwardly some more.

"And just how do you propose I take you up on it? There´s no room beside you, you know."

Draco blinked as if with sudden realisation of their situation. "So right you are!" Draco made a show of pursing his lips and creasing his brow in a display of concentration. Then his lips quirked upward slightly in an expression that wasn´t quite a smile. "Of course, I am ever resourceful." Affecting an expression that was almost seraphic in its innocence, he spread his legs casually in a way that, in any other situation, or had it been performed by other person, would have been unimaginably lewd and crass. However, the act combined with his angelic countenance -pale gold hair, thick fringe of ash-blonde lashes framing large eyes of liquid silver, full primrose lips pressed together sweetly in a pout--served for an artistic image that was subtly suggestive and tongue-in-cheek risqué.

Judging by the shade of crimson he blushed, Harry caught the implications in that action perfectly. The nerve of Malfoy to even suggest that! Well, if he was suggesting what Harry was pretty sure he was suggesting..."Malfoy," Harry growled out, "there is no sodding way in hell that I am going down between your legs." Before Malfoy could make a reply, "You know what I mean!!"

Obviously trying to suppress a smirk, Draco replied, "Fine, but that´s the only comfortable position that I can think of right now."

Harry´s reply was firm. "No. Bloody. Way."

Several minutes later, Draco leaned forward and rested his chin on Harry´s shoulder. "There, now. This isn´t so bad, is it?" His warm breath fanned over Harry´s ear.

Harry roughly shrugged Draco´s head off of his shoulder. "Didn´t I say no more touching than was absolutely necessary?" he asked crossly.

"Yes, you did," Draco agreed as he placed one hand on Harry´s waist, reaching for the chest with the other, pressing his own chest against Harry´s back as he did so. Once the wooden chest had reached its destination, Draco pulled his hand back, but not before letting his fingers trail over Harry´s calf, up his thigh, and across a good part of his abdomen and chest. Harry tensed and his breath hitched.

The Boy Who Lived (now feeling rather like The Boy Who Had Just Been Violated) twisted partially around to fix upon Draco his best glare. "Don´t_even_try_to tell me that was `absolutely necessary´!"

Silver eyes (which happened to be a sort of shimmery aquatic mercury colour in the light) widened with utmost innocence. "But it was!"

"Right. And I´m the Queen of England."

Draco gasped with disbelief. "And I never knew! Your Majesty!"

It was right about then that Harry realised that glaring at such a close distance rather lost its effect when one was between the legs of the object of one´s agitation. Likewise, he noticed that twisting around to glare at said person put one in an even more awkward position than before. The latter was probably what bothered him most, considering that certain parts of him rubbed firmly against a certain part of Draco that should never, ever be breached. At least by Harry anyway. Okay, really didn´t need that image.

"If you don´t mind, I´m going to turn back around now."

"Be my guest."

Harry attempted to scoot himself forward so that he actually didn´t have to be in physical contact with Draco at all, but between the box in front of him and Draco behind him, that didn´t give him much leg room, or much room at all. Resigning himself to his fate, he settled back and tried not to think about the -warmlivingbreathinghormonalMalfoy - body he was settling back on.

Relax. He´s just trying to get to you. Think of him as a...chair. A warm, living, breathing, hor--Need change of tactic. Need distraction. Need *serious* distraction. "All right, how about those scrolls?" Without waiting for a reply, Harry reached for a random scroll, and slipped off the velvet purple ribbon that bound it in place, carefully unfurling it.

" `My Dearest Severus...´ " Harry began, and then promptly began paling and choking on those three words linked together. "Malfoy...this is a love letter, I believe."

"Yes, didn´t you know? Lavender scent, remember...?"

"Well, yes, but...Snape...and love letters?! I think I can die now, because nothing will ever surprise me again."

"Oh, no, you don´t. I´m not letting you die on me. I absolutely refuse to spend several hours trapped in a closet with your stiffening corpse. Besides, what´s the fuss about? You knew what kind of letters these were when we started."

"Yeah, but it´s Snape!"

"If you´re not going to read, then I will."

Harry considered saying yes for a moment. Of course, going by what Draco had considered `absolutely necessary touching´ from the little fiasco earlier, he really didn´t want to run the risk of being subjected to more...molestations. "That´s okay...I think I can handle it now."

`My Dearest Severus,

I know that you do not approve of my affections, but I cannot contain them any longer!

No matter what you say, I cannot change the way I feel about you, nor can I change the way you feel about me. Your hair, like black silk! Your eyes! O, how they sparkle so! They glitter like brilliant stars set in the dark midnight sky! O, how my heart doth ache! Though they say love is blind, I cannot imagine another individual more beautiful than you, the object of my affections!...´

Harry spluttered, choking on his laughter. "Malfoy, these are fake, right?"

"I´m not sure..." Draco´s slight disturbance was evident in his voice.

"Surely there isn´t anyone who could feel this way about...Snape..."

"I´m not so sure about that..." Draco remarked vaguely.

Harry, not one for subtlety, completely missed the ambiguity. "But, honestly! `Your hair, your eyes! O, how my heart doth ache!´ Who would write such bunk? Who could stomach to read it?"

"A young, preteen girl...?"

Harry shuddered violently. "That was an image I really did not need."

"Well, why don´t you check the signature, then?"

Near the bottom of the page:

`...And I shall continue to love you, always and forever, for all of time. Eternally yours, with all my heart, L.´

"L...? Do we know anyone whose name begins with L?" Harry asked.

"None of the staff, I believe..."

"What if it isn´t one of the staff...?"

"How scandalous!"

"Let´s see..." Harry began, racking his brain for L-names. "Lavender...Laura...Lorenza...Lucretia...Lila..."

"Lily," Draco remarked with an undeniably wicked quirk.

"Lucius," Harry replied smoothly, fighting fire with fire.

Both boys shook with violent tremors.

"Let´s...just keep on reading."

"Agreed..."

`My Dearest Severus,

The memories of our most recent tryst have emblazoned themselves forever in my mind. How I miss you already! My heart and body ache for what you alone can provide!...´

"Malfoy, I don´t think I can keep on reading. I´m going to be traumatised for life."

Draco actually laughed, and Harry could feel the other boy´s body shake against his, in what was an almost thrilling manner. Wait, no, that wasn´t the word he wanted at all. Chilling, yeah, that was it.

"Oh, come on, it´s just getting good! Don´t stop now!"

"Oh, fine."

`...Every night I relive our most intimate moments, hungering for the sustenance of your touch. How could I even want to forget the way you had me up against the wall, completely at your mercy... Over on top of your desk, your wonderful hands upon me and your passionate mouth so slick and hot and wet upon mine...´

"Malfoy, there is no way I´m continuing with this! It´s near pornographic!"

"I, for one, am never going near that desk again. Ever."

"I don´t think it´s right to intrude on someone´s personal business like this...After all, there is a reason why they were locked up so carefully..." Harry said reluctantly, his conscience nipping at him.

"You didn´t seem to have so many objections before," Draco pointed out.

"Well, there are certain subjects...and certain impressions of certain people...that should never be breached. Ever. Some secrets are meant to stay in the closet."

Amused, "No pun intended?"

"Oh, would you drop it already? Either way, I´m not continuing with this."

"Are you joshing me? There´s enough blackmail material in here to get me full marks in Potions for the rest of my time in Hogwarts!"

"How very unselfish of you."

"Fine, enough to get you full marks in Potions for the rest of your time at Hogwarts."

"Your generosity touches me overwhelmingly."

"It should. And if you´re not going to read, let me do it then." Draco said, shifting slightly to the side to better read over Harry´s arm. His body rubbed against Harry´s as he did so, sending the other´s body into a spasm of tingles at the intimate contact. Harry made a small noise of discomfort.

"Oh, all right, I´ll read from another scroll if this really bothers you that much," Draco conceded, obviously misunderstanding (or perhaps purposefully misinterpreting) his companion´s uneasiness. Harry froze as the boy reached over him to grab a different piece of parchment from the box, again making the presence of every part of his body known to every part of Harry´s.

"`My Dearest Severus, I cannot bear to live without thee!...´" Draco began, affecting the overly dramatic tone of a female soap opera star. Despite himself, Harry found this extremely amusing.

Okay, Harry had to admit that this was rather...pleasant. It was pleasant to know that Malfoy was an actual person, rather than just an automated rival thrown into his life just to make things more difficult for him. Plus, the entire scene itself was rather cosy: reading sappy old love letters in the candle....er, slug-light. One could almost say it was classically romantic...not that he would. Ever.

He turned back to look at Draco and their eyes met when the blonde looked up from the letter. They were silent then, and Harry couldn´t help but notice the way Malfoy´s eyes seemed to "glitter like brilliant stars" in the now-bright eerie glow. There was a not-quite uncomfortable flittering in his stomach, and though he was far too entranced to really think it anything out of the ordinary. Entranced...enchanted...Something inside him suddenly snapped with a twang (like a bowstring drawn too taut) and Harry immediately broke eye contact and twisted to his original position.

Draco blinked in the manner of one suddenly waking up, complete with the same guilty expression as if that one had been caught napping in class.

"I really hate those slugs," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Hmm...? Did you say something?" Draco asked.

"Uh, no, it was nothing. Why don´t you continue reading?"

"All right."

`My Dearest Severus,

I cannot bear to live without thee! However, if you do not tell that tart Lupin to hit the road, I cannot be held responsible for my actions...´

"Wait a minute...Lupin...?" Harry interrupted. "As in Professor Lupin? Professor Remus Lupin?"

"Well, unless he has a sister that we don´t know about...does he have a sister, do you know?"

"Not that I know of..." Harry said, obviously quite disturbed. "Of course, it could always be another Lupin..."

"And how many wizarding families do you know with the surname Lupin?"

"Well, it might not be a surname...and it might not even be a wizarding name! It could be a Muggle name, have you ever thought of that?"

"Come now, Harry. We both know that´s ridiculous. It´s Professor Remus Lupin, all right."

Harry made a slight strangled noise. "But it can´t be."

"And why not...?"

"Because that would mean...that Snape and he..."

"I always knew you were a bright boy."

"And it would mean that Snape would be..."

"Yes, so?"

"But that´s impossible!"

"Why?"

"Because he just doesn´t seem like the type to be....well, that way..."

"So now we´re stereotyping, are we?"

`Well...no...but...it´s just not...right!"

"And why not?"

"Well, how are you taking this so calmly?"

"I," said Draco, pressing forward just a bit (though a bit much too close for Harry´s comfort), "am highly amused. I say, if it feels good, then just...do it." He breathed the last two words into the other boy´s ear, who shifted with increasing discomposure.

"But that´s just so wrong," Harry protested, even as he attempted to shuffle away, a fruitless goal considering the confines of the closet.

Draco leaned back against the door again, allowing his counterpart to relax. "Have you ever considered the fact that your homophobia--"

"I´m not homophobic!"

"Fine, your...discomfiture with this topic may be the unconscious expression of your own guilty desires?"

"That´s ridiculous! "

"Is it really...? Like I told you before, it´s perfectly normal to be curious about this sort of thing." He absently brushed his hand over the outside of Harry´s thigh in an insouciant manner. Harry flinched, but to a minimal degree. "It´s even perfectly normal to be a little confused, at this age."

"Well, then! Are you confused?" Harry disputed, nevertheless feeling a spark of genuine curiosity (or was it a spark of something else?) at hearing the response. Well, considering all those horrible, lewd remarks, not to mention their current position...

"Of course not," Draco responded with perfect self-assurance. "I know exactly what I am."

"Oh, really?" Harry challenged. "Then what are you?"

Draco smirked, a smug expression with no small amount of arrogance, resting just the tips of his fingers onto Harry´s hip, burning the other boy with a spectral touch. "Confusing."

~*~

"Umm...Hermione, do you think that we can talk?" Ginny asked, looking down at the floor self-consciously.

Hermione put down her quill and closed her book, looking up at her friend. "No problem, Ginny. What´s on your mind?"

Ginny sat down, sighing mournfully. "I have a problem with this...friend. I think I like them. As in like like them."

"I see." Hermione nodded in sympathetic understanding. "And this worries you because you´re not sure of how this person feels about you?"

"Yes! Exactly! This person is very important to me and-- "

Ginny was interrupted as a slightly-out-of-breath Ron ran into the room, shouting something in a panic-stricken tone. "Hermione! Hermione!"

"Ron, what in the dickens is the matter?" Hermione asked, staring at her boyfriend´s flushed freckled face and heaving chest.

"Harry´s gone missing!" Ron declared melodramatically. " `Headline! `HARRY POTTER MISSING...FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED!´ "

Hermione´s previous apprehension immediately evaporated from her expression. "Oh bother, not this again." She sighed wearily, shaking her head. "Ron, are you sure that that´s the situation? No exaggerations this time?"

"Hermione, I´m appalled! I never exaggerate!" He pointedly ignored Hermione´s sarcastic eye-roll. "But I´m bloody serious. Harry was supposed to meet me at five for a game of chess. It´s now quarter to six and there´s still no sign of him!"

Hermione pursed her lips, a sign of genuine anxiety in her logical and collected exterior. "Perhaps you´re right. It´s not like Harry to be that late. Perhaps we should go look for him..."

"Finally, you listen to me!"

"I listen to you when you make sense," Hermione responded. She turned to Ginny, placing a somewhat distracted hand on the younger girl´s shoulder. "You don´t mind, do you, Ginny? I´m sorry I have to go, but we´ll talk later, I promise!"

"Oh--"

"Thanks, Ginny, you´re a dear! I knew you´d understand!" Hermione called back over her shoulder as she left the room with Ron. Ginny stared at the portrait hole for a moment.

"...no, I don´t mind being left behind at all. Again. You just go ahead and go have fun with Ron, Hermione," Ginny said, finishing her statement to no one in particular.

The empty common room gave no reply.

~*~

There was a distinct pungency to the Potions room that wafted in greeting when Hermione first opened the door. Ron drew back in surprise, quickly pressing the sleeve of his robe to his nose in consideration of his olfactory senses. If Hermione had been feeling particularly spiteful towards her beau because of his recent neglect of her, she might have chanced to mention that it smelled like something--or someone, for that matter--debauched. She didn´t.

They entered the room, hands moving in grand sweeping motions as they waved away the clouds of smoke that billowed around them. The smoke dissipated, dissolving into the air. The classroom was empty, in all appearances. A cauldron at the front of the room was apparently the source of both the smoke and the smell, having long since boiled dry. While the saying "a watched cauldron never boils" often proved true, apparently an unwatched cauldron boiled twice as fast. It was a lucky thing that the fire under it had been rather low, or else it would not have been surprising to find the table that the cauldron was currently upon disintegrated into a pile of black ash.

Nearing the abandoned cauldron, the two found a clutter of a cornucopia of ingredients, as well as stains of splatters upon the hardwood table, relics of where the potion had boiled over, the liquid itself having evaporated long ago. Hermione couldn´t help but tsk at the flagrant violation of one of the first rules of Potion class safety: `Never leave a boiling cauldron alone.´ Not even first years were pardoned from this offence, and considering the fact that the two involved were sixth-years, the entire tableau before them was disgraceful indeed.

"What a mess! They should really have known better than to leave it alone! They could have burnt the whole school down!" Hermione shook her head in obvious disapproval.

"At least that would make for an interesting headline," Ron remarked. " `HARRY POTTER TURNED ARSONIST! WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO?!´"

It was just then that Hermione noticed something even more interesting than the burnt cauldron and the haphazard approach to classroom safety. Carefully draped over the back of a chair were two sets of robes: one she immediately recognised with Gryffindor insignia, the other with the familiar crest of Slytherin House. She cleared her throat to call Ron´s attention.

"What do you have there, Hermione?" The mist of puzzlement on Ron´s face began to clear as Hermione wordlessly held up the Gryffindor set for inspection, before laying it down and repeating the process with the Slytherin one. Puzzlement was slowly replaced by a not-so-distant relative, Open-mouthed Shock.

"I´ve a feeling that wherever Harry and Malfoy are," Hermione began, placing the Slytherin robes back upon the chair, draping them back into place, "they aren´t very far from here."

"You can´t possibly be suggesting..." Ron trailed off, looking from the robes to Hermione and back again.

"I´m not suggesting anything," Hermione replied calmly. "I´m just pointing out the fact that their things are here."

"I don´t believe it. Harry would never..." He looked back at the Gryffindor robes, unable to finish his sentence.

"Never do what, Ron?" Hermione prompted.

"He just would never do anything, okay?" Ron responded almost snappishly, and Hermione found herself just a little taken aback. Just a bit.

"Harry?" Ron called. "Harry!"

"Ron, I wasn´t trying to suggest anything...You should really stop jumping to conclusions..."

Ron ignored her. "Harry!"

"Ron, listen to me..."

There was a muffled noise from the closet.

Both Ron and Hermione stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then, Ron strode over to the closet door.

"Ron, it probably wasn´t anything..."

"Probably," Ron agreed. "But I want to check, in any case." He placed a hand on the knob and rattled it, unable to open it. "It´s locked."

"Satisfied, Ron?"

"Not just yet." Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he deftly drew his wand out of his robe. "Alohamora!" With a whir and click, the door unlocked, whereupon Ron impatiently threw it open.

~*~

After some moments of discomfort on Harry´s part, they had gone back to reading the scandalatious letters. Disturbing as they were, Harry had a feeling that there were a number of other things that could have transpired in the closet that would have made the letters pale in comparison. Besides, there was some sort of guilty forbidden pleasure in reading them, though he would never admit it to anyone. (Perhaps that was some explanation for that day when he had caught Ron reading that trashy romance novel.) Either way, he and Draco had both been engrossed in reading when he heard some faint background sound. "Did you hear that?" Harry asked, interrupting the blonde from his reading.

"Hear what?"

"Voices. I think I heard voices."

"Are you sure?"

"No, not really," Harry admitted, putting the jar of Limaxi aside. "Move over so I can check, okay?"

"This is going to be awkward," Draco informed him. "We´re going to have to switch positions. There´s not enough room for the both of us."

"Can you try turning around?"

"Not with you between my legs."

Harry blushed. "Well, I´ll try and turn around, then." Scooting forward, he used his feet to push the chest back as far as it would go, wincing as it screeching scraped against the floor. He managed to twist himself around fully with some difficulty. Now facing Draco, he sat back on his haunches, surveying the situation. "Um...do you think you can move over a bit?"

"Not really...you´re still between my legs, you know."

"Oh, right. Well, how are we going to do this?" He thought briefly of standing up, but then realised that that act would put the seam of his pants directly at Draco´s level...a position that was undoubtedly even worse than before.

Draco smiled, but didn´t voice his thoughts. "Well, you could just lean over me and press your ear to the door."

Harry looked doubtful, but there really wasn´t any other choice. "All right..." He leaned in, trying to ignore the feeling of Draco´s thighs on either side of him and their chests pressed together. It wasn´t particularly uncomfortable, just...hot. Very hot. He tried to get into the place he wanted with as little movement as possible, but wasn´t succeeding very well. And of course, just when he had settled enough to press against the door...

The door flung open.

~*~

Though Ron had been expecting a number of possible outcomes when he opened the door, none of them were quite like this.

The closet door had swung open only to have the detestable Malfoy poured out, falling backwards directly onto the floor, the weight on top of the blonde disabling him from catching himself. However, surprising as that was, it didn´t astonish Ron nearly as much as the identity of the weight on top of the Slytherin: Harry Potter himself, Ron´s own best friend, in the flesh. And there Harry was, sprawled out on top of his long time rival and arch-nemesis in an obscene, shameless manner - acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ron wasn´t quite sure whether to act astonished, enraged, shocked, or disturbed. He settled for silently staring and opening and closing his mouth.

It was Malfoy who finally broke the long moments of silence, with a "Hullo, all." He offered a grin that somehow still managed to be somewhat charming, considering the fact that he was on the floor and all.

"Ron! Hermione!" was the first thing Harry could think of to exclaim as he quickly scrambled off of Malfoy. "This isn´t what it looks like!"

Hermione looked as if she were trying to suppress a sudden spasm of giggles.

"Well," Ron declared, once he had managed to regain some of his composure, "here´s something I hoped that I would never have to say: `Headline! `BOY-WHO-LIVED COMES OUT OF CLOSET´!´ "

~*~

"For the hundredth time, Ron, nothing happened!" Harry cried, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I went to get the ingredients, couldn´t find it, and he went in after me. The door swung shut, and we got locked in. Several hours later, you found us. End of story."

"That´s all that happened?" Ron queried suspiciously.

"That´s all that happened!"

"Why do I find it so hard to believe you?"

"Because you´re a presumptuous arse?"

"I can´t believe you! How dare you even say that! I´m not the one sneaking around in closets with my supposed enemy! Hello?!"

"Oh, come off it, Ron! When have I ever lied to you?"

"Well, there was the time that my fish died, and then you told me I never had a fish, but I still had the bowl..."

"...Ron, that wasn´t me. That was Fred and George."

A slight pause. "Oh yeah."

Harry sighed in obvious exasperation. "Ron, I´m telling you the truth. Absolutely nothing happened, and nothing would have happened, whether we had been locked in there for five minutes or five days!"

"I found you before one day was up, never mind five," Ron snapped back.

"You know what I mean."

"So you say you were locked. Why didn´t either of you use your wands?"

"We had left them in our robes," Harry replied matter-of-factly.

"Which you weren´t wearing in the first place because why...?"

"It was hot!"

"Right. Hot. And just why was it so hot?"

"Because it was hot out today?" Harry suggested with complete logical implacability. "Honestly, Ron, what do you want me to tell you?"

"I want you to tell me the truth!"

"I am telling you the truth!"

"I´m positive you are. `Oh, it´s getting hot in here,´" Ron said as if he were Harry, " `So I´ll take off all my clothes.´"

"Ron, the school robe really does not count as `all my clothes´. I was still decent, you know."

"That point is debatable," Ron shot back pointedly.

"I don´t know why you´re making such a big deal out of this! I´ve already told you everything there is to tell! Hermione was right about you overreacting."

"Overreacting? You think I´m overreacting?! You haven´t seen me overreact yet! This is certainly not overreacting! I think I have every right to know why my best friend thought it was okay to dump me in favour of his supposed nemesis!"

Harry, having always been a bright boy, caught on immediately. "Oh, is that what this is all about?"

"What is?"

"You´re not telling me you´re jealous of Malfoy, are you, Ron?"

"What?!" Ron spluttered. "Me?! Jealous? Of Malfoy?! Don´t be daft! I have never been, nor will I ever be, jealous of that arrogant, self-absorbed prick!"

"So you´re not jealous?"

"Of course not! Just because he´s constantly pointing out my flaws and what I lack, and just because he has everything that I don´t, and just because he insists upon taking my best friend as well when he has two perfectly good goons of his own...why should I be jealous?!"

"No reason, as you´ve just so blatantly pointed out." Harry sighed. "Look, Ron, I already told you that I´m sorry. You keep on making it sound as if I ditched you on purpose, which couldn´t be farther from the truth. You´re my best friend--you know that, I know that, Hell, the whole school knows that. You should also know that nothing is capable of changing that. I like spending time with you. I have enjoyed spending time with you ever since I was eleven. Malfoy is my rival, and long-time nemesis. He has been such just as long as you have been my best friend. While the relationship between him and me might be slightly shifting, it´s not going to change drastically anytime soon. I spend time with him because he´s my tutor, and I´m forced to do so, against my own will. I don´t like him, neither do I enjoy his company. I don´t like being with him."

"Could have fooled me," Ron muttered darkly.

"And that´s another thing! One would think that after all these years you´d have learned to trust me! Why do you keep thinking I´m hiding something from you when I´m telling you the truth?"

"You want to know why I don´t believe you? Use some common sense! What would you think if you had found me on top of him in that... position?!" Ron shuddered violently. "Makes me ill to think of it."

"Well, I wouldn´t have known what to think, but at least I would listen to you, since I trust that you´d tell me the truth!"

"And you would believe whatever I told you, without question?"

"Why wouldn´t I?!"

"Harry," Ron said slowly, as if speaking to a very small child, or to his little sister (same difference, really), "that´s not being trusting, that´s being a blooming idiot."

"Ron," Harry mimicked the redhead´s exact tone, "that´s what mates are supposed to do."

"Only when they don´t try to feed each other some load of bull."

"You are impossible, you know that?! There´s no satisfying you!"

"You want to satisfy me?! Then stop dicking around with Malfoy and spend some time on me for a change!!"

Seamus, who possessed such impeccable timing that it was difficult to believe that he hadn´t somehow obtained a copy of some universal script, walked in at this precise moment. He blinked for several moments before finally speaking. "Ye know, I had always thought there was something queer about yer relationship, but I didn´t really think that ye´d...and aren´t ye with Hermione, Ron?"

Now it was Ron´s turn to look confused. "Not currently, as one can obviously see. What does that have to do with anything?"

Seamus gasped. "How could ye do this to her?!"

"Do what?" Ron asked. "It´s not like she knows what we´re doing up here."

"She doesn´t know?!"

"Of course not!" said Ron, looking rather opposed to the mere suggestion.

"Well, we wouldn´t want to upset her," Harry explained.

"Besides," Ron declared, "this is a manly matter that´s just between Harry and myself. There´s no need for her to be involved."

Unable to contain his surprise and horror any longer, Seamus burst out with, "Headline! SCANDAL IN THE GRYFFINDOR BOYS´ DORMITORY!"

"Hey, that´s my line!" Ron cried indignantly.

"Umm, I hate to be rude," Harry interrupted, "but we were having a rather private conversation before you came in, Seamus."

"I´ll say!" Seamus couldn´t help remarking.

"So would you kindly leave the room?" Harry requested gently.

"Fine!" Seamus huffed. "I can tell when I´m not wanted!" He flopped down upon his own bed.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the Irish boy expectantly. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Umm...Seamus?" Harry cued.

"What?"

"Now is one of those times."

"Oh, well then! No need to draw me a picture!" With a grand, dramatic flourish, Seamus got up off his bed and stomped out of the room.

"Damn," said Ron, "I just got my ink out and everything."

"So..." Harry prompted as Ron put his ink and scroll away, "...as we were saying..."

"When we last left off, you were going to tell me the truth about what was going on between you and Lover Boy in your Closet of Sweet, Sweet Luuuuuurve."

If Harry had been drinking something, he would have spewed it all over the room. "RON! That has to be the most inane thing you´ve ever said!"

"Why? Did I strike a little too close to home?"

Hermione had a technique for calming herself down whenever the stress and tensions became too difficult to bear. She would take a deep breath, close her eyes, and count backwards from ten, envisioning what she called her "happy place". It was a fortunate thing, then, that Harry remembered this strategy, for it just so happened to be the only thing that kept his fist from finding a permanent residence in his best friend´s face.

After counting backwards from ten about three times, and counting up to ten the same amount of times, Harry found that he was calm enough to speak. "Ron," he said slowly, "I´ve apologised, and I have told the truth, although whether you choose to believe me or not is your own decision. You can be upset if you like, but I´ve done everything possible on my part, and I refuse to take any responsibility for the way you feel. I´m not going to waste any more breath."

"So now I´m not even worthy of your breath?" Ron retorted.

"That´s not what I said!" Harry cried, getting upset again in spite of himself. "Why do I even try and reason with you? You don´t even listen!"

"If I´m truly that much of a pest to you, then by no means inconvenience yourself on my account! Don´t talk to me for all I care!"

"Fine, I won´t!"

"Fine with me!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

They were silent then, each stewing in his own resentment of the other.

Harry hated fighting with Ron, he honestly did. He had little doubt that Ron hated fighting with him as well, but the redhead was always prone to such a brash and uncontrollable temper. Well, even so, Harry absolutely refused to apologise any more. He had already done his part to placate his best friend; it was now up to Ron to bridge the gap between the two, emotionally as well as physically. (Okay, so maybe more emotionally and not too much physically.) After all, there was such a thing as pride.

However, Ron had a lot of pride as well, so much that at times it seemed to dwarf his common sense and reason. He hated to apologise, since, above all else, the process of apology usually entailed the confession of being wrong. And as Harry went over the incident again in his mind, he had to admit that the truth sounded just the slightest bit stupid, even to himself. However, Ron should have trusted him, nonetheless, though it was understandable to see why he didn´t. He entertained the fleeting thought of going over to Ron and trying, just once more, to patch things up between them. No, he sternly admonished himself. If there´s anyone who owes anybody an apology, he owes you one. Do not give in until you get a formal apology.

He noticed Ron looking over at him and quickly gave him his best glare in return.

Ron had been surreptitiously glancing at Harry ever since their self-inflicted "silent treatment" war started. Usually, people were quiet because they wanted to retreat into the private sanctuaries of their own minds, but this time Ron knew that this was a form of punishment for his implacability during their little...disagreement.

To be sure, he wasn´t even quite sure what he actually wanted when it came to the issue. Harry was probably telling him the truth, since his best friend had never lied to him, as was previously pointed out. Of course, there´s always a first time for everything... He shook his head, mentally chiding himself for thinking that way. It would only get him even more upset than he already was.

To be sure, he couldn´t put his finger on what it was, exactly, that made him so upset. All he knew was that the whole matter gave him a distinctly nauseous and uneasy feeling when he thought of it, as if all of his angst balled up into black snakes in the pit of his stomach, coiling and twisting and writhing around, biting his innards. The amount of undeniable discomfiture that was caused by this was undoubtedly the incentive behind his lashing out at one of the two people he believed to be the cause of it, who, unfortunately, happened to be Harry.

It might please you now, dear Reader, to imagine Ron´s internal struggle at this moment as a sort of cosmic battle duked out between the physical manifestations of his conscience, also known as a super-deformed angel likeness of Ron sitting on one shoulder, and a demonic version of the same sitting on the other. According to such wishes, metaphysical chibis that fit such a description now appeared, allowing the viewer to better experience dear Ronald´s conflicting feelings in a manner that is both efficient and economic.

`You should apologise,´ advised the angelic personification of his conscience (or as Freud would call it, the superego). (For the sake of imagination, let us allow ourselves to believe that he wore pristine white robes and a halo.) `He´s never given you any reason to doubt him.´

`Apologise?!´ rebuffed the demonic counterpart (also known as the Freudian id), `If anyone should apologise, it´s him! Of course he wouldn´t tell you the truth!´ (Also for the sake of imagination, he would most likely wear leather and belts. And lots of leather belts, most of them decorative, very few of them actually functional.)

`Why wouldn´t he tell you the truth?´ asked Angel!Ronald.

`Oh, please, be realistic. If what we think happened really happened, do you think he would tell you? No, he´s too worried about "hurting your feelings" and other crap like that. Bull plop, I say!" Devil!Ron reasoned.

`Even IF that IS the case, he was still trying to look act in your best interest.´

`Whoa, whoa, whoa, since when was shacking up with a total scumbag on the list of Ronald Weasley´s Best Interests?´

`He would never intentionally hurt you.´

`...yeah, Harry wouldn´t intentionally hurt you. LIE to you, maybe...´

`He still wouldn´t hurt you like you´re hurting him right now...´

But he wouldn´t hurt me. Normal!Ron (a.k.a. the Freudian Ego) was forced to accept. And I suppose that´s not the only reason why I was so upset at him...After all, he does tell me everything and I highly doubt that he´d neglect something as big as this...I just felt betrayed at the thought that I didn´t know him as well as I thought I did.

`But he wronged you!´ protested DeviRon.

`Correction: We don´t know if he wronged you. You just assume he did because you felt so wounded. Plus, you have to admit you are at least, a little jealous at all the time he´s been spending with Malfoy. ´

Jealous?! Why would he be jealous of Malfoy, of all people?!

Maybe he´s right. Maybe I am jealous. Just a little. Of course, that revelation did absolutely nothing to comfort him. He should be spending time with me, not him! Isn´t enough that that prick already has everything that he wants and doesn´t deserve an ounce of it? Is it his purpose in life to make me miserable? Why does he have to take away what´s mine?

A black serpent inside his abdomen uncoiled itself and bit.

~*~

Ginny sighed, scrawling doodles all over the margins of her notes. She didn´t have much of a purpose, but rather let the direction of her thoughts guide her quill in its curls of black ink. She didn´t feel much like studying, anyhow. After all, nobody loved her and nobody cared. The tip of her quill snapped as she pressed down to draw the black blood dripping from the heart she had just coloured in. Oh, what rotten luck. Just as she was about to use the jagged, broken tip to puncture the skin of her parchment a great many times over, Seamus came down from the dormitories. He had gone up not five minutes ago, and he looked almost as pissed as Ginny herself.

"Did you have a bad day, too?" Ginny asked with the sympathy one reserved for a kindred spirit.

"You could say that. After all, I only got kicked out of my own room so that Harry and your brother could have a lovers´ spat."

"Harry and my brother are doing what?!"

"Having a lovers´ spat."

"But that would mean..."

"Yes, exactly." Seamus muttered bitterly. "I swear, they´re having an affair!"

"Scandal! I can´t believe--"

"That´s exactly what I said!"

As Seamus sat down and started to relate to her the entire incident, detail by detail, Ginny didn´t have the heart to tell him what she meant to say was that she could not believe her incredible luck.

~*~*~*~

Next time, on The Art of Seduction...Relationships change all the time. A little prank brings the boys closer; hurrah for male bonding! But this newfound camaraderie must come at some cost...In fact, Harry´s about to have lots of friend issues as we learn that jealousy and misunderstanding prove to be a dangerous combination indeed...Chapter 5: "Their Friends Over You".

Quote: "Well, Sir, it appears to me that years of living in a magical castle have given her a healthy green glow."