Through Falling Leaves and Ashen Snow

Harry lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Tiny floating lights danced before his eyes, and he sighed. He had never been so confused in all his life.

Grinding the heels of his hands into his eyelids, he sat up.

"I am a boy. Boys like girls. This is ridiculous, I know that. God, I am such a prat."

"Boys like girls," he reminded himself again. "Boys like girls, and don't like other boys. That's not how it works." He paused. "Then why the hell-"

"Harry?" Ron sat up and looked over at him.

"What are you talking about, mate? It's one in the morning, and you're the only one awake."

Harry was glad it was dark in the room, because he had just turned a colour that matched the maroon cardigan Mrs. Weasley had knitted him for Christmas the year before.

"Oh, nothing, Ron. Just talking to myself. Nothing important." He prayed that Ron would believe that.

"Are you sure?"

"Damn," he thought. "Yeah, Ron, I'm all right. Night." He rolled over, and heard his friend sigh behind him.

"Alright then. Night."

Harry heard Ron turn over to face the wall; soft snores were discernable from that area of bedroom soon after.

"Damn it," he thought, this time careful to keep his mouth firmly shut. "This is so stupid. Stop being such a bloody Hufflepuff." Harry paused, stunned at how much he sounded like Malfoy just then. Oh, Malfoy, the reason for all these troubles. His soft, flowing hair, the way he talked, the way he walked...even the way he sucked his quill when he was thinking nearly did Harry in every time he saw it. Harry couldn't stand who he had fallen for, but he couldn't deny that he had fallen, spectacularly well. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just tell him. It would have been easier if it was Ron or Seamus, or someone like that. At least they were friends to begin with. And they were unlikely to hex him into oblivion. But it wasn't Ron or Seamus. It was Draco bloody Malfoy, the person who had hated him since school began, the person who was the poster-boy for pure-blood propaganda and muggle hatred. Harry shouldn't like him. Much less covet him like a randy school-girl.

Harry sighed, and rolled over. He would deal with all of this tomorrow. Right now, he wanted to sleep, and not have to think. Least of all, to think about the sex god he desired so badly, who snuck into his dreams so often.

~~~

The next day at breakfast, Harry was greeted a little too warmly by Hermione. He knew that Ron had said something about what he had heard the night before. How much had he heard? Ron was acting odd too. Harry couldn't put his finger on what was up with Ron, but he wished he knew.

The three ate their breakfast without any mention of the previous night. It would have been silent, if not for Hermione's standard comments about the lack of her friends' study habits.

"You boys really should start studying more - we are in our last year! You need to think about your futu-" She stopped abruptly, but not quite catching herself in time. The future was one thing that Harry was not prepared to talk about, with anyone.

"I might head to class," he said, standing from the table. He grabbed the last piece of toast off his plate, and left.

Ron shot Hermione a dirty look. "Why'd you have to mention the future, 'Mione?"

She sighed. "I didn't mean to. I wish Sirius was still here for him; Harry wasn't so afraid of what is to come when he could talk to him."

~~

"Why the hell is this happening?" Harry walked along the corridor, his gait a picture of calm compared to how he felt inside. "Damn," he thought to himself. "I need someone to talk to about this...stuff with Malfoy. I just don't know who."

Usually, he would have talked to Sirius, but...Harry let his thoughts trail off there, and he rounded the corner to Potions. Half the class was there in the corridor. He remembered the test that Snape had scheduled many days before. He groaned, pulled out his book, and then desperately tried to study all he could in the extra ten minutes before class. Malfoy entered the corridor behind him, and sneered mercilessly at him.

"I see someone forgot to study. Such a pity that, isn't it, Potter?" he asked with such venom that Harry for a moment forgot why he was so infatuated with him. Then he glanced at Malfoy, and it all came flooding back. The soft hair, the cold grey eyes, with silver swimming in their depths. Harry swallowed, and made no return remark.

Snape rounded the corner not a moment later, and smiled in the most wicked of manners.

"Books away. I will give you quills from the class set. Can't have any of you cheating, can we, Mr. Potter?" he said slyly, looking Harry up and down and finally letting his eyes rest on the open textbook in Harry's hands. "Now really, Mr. Potter, I can see no point in that. If you were ever going to learn anything, I would have assumed that you would learn the school rules before attempting my Potions class. Although, your father never did - I suppose we could put it down to bad genetics," he said with a nasty smirk. "I shall certainly enjoy explaining to the Headmaster that you have failed my class again, I might add."

His robes sweeping impressively behind him, Snape entered the classroom, nodding to Malfoy as he did so.

"Draco."

"Professor."

Harry glared at Snape's back, but silently went to his seat, deciding that there was little point in trying to argue with him - he would, without fail, remove House-points, and Harry had lost enough of those so far this year. Glancing down at the test in front of him, Harry had very little clue what he was reading. He read through a little further, and found a section on lacewing flies and their uses in modern medicinal potion making. Harry felt a little more relieved. He had studied medicinal potion making recently, as that area of the subject interested him greatly.

Having completed the section on the lacewing flies, he read through the test's other questions, to see whether there were any other questions that he could answer. He found a couple, and answered them as best he could. With his mind in as much turmoil over the Malfoy situation, it was hard to concentrate on a subject he cared for so little. Glancing over to the Slytherin side of the room, he saw Draco scribbling on what appeared to be his third piece of parchment. Harry sighed. Draco had always loved Potions, so it wasn't all that surprising that he wrote a lot in his answers.

Harry watched Draco now. He had a tendency to put his tongue out the side of his mouth just a little when he wrote. Harry found this to be incredibly cute. He looked back down at his own paper, and sighed. He just didn't know what he was going to do. He desperately wanted to talk to someone, but he didn't think that he could bring it up to Ron, or to Hermione.

After a moment, Snape looked up.

"Accio papers!" He called out over the dungeon.

Every test flew to his desk, and fell neatly into alphabetical order. He then dismissed the class, and Harry saw Hermione beginning to walk towards him. He thought quickly - it was either have to talk to Hermione, or get a detention to avoid her-

CRASH!

A bowl of snake fangs fell from the shelf that Harry had inadvertently walked into in his quest to avoid Hermione and her possible questioning. Well, at least now he didn't have to find a reason for a detention...

Snape glared at Harry from his desk.

"Potter, stay behind and clean that up. Scrub the cauldrons while you are at it."

Harry sighed with relief, and Snape caught him doing so. He glanced at him, and smiled in his evilest manner.

"And after that Potter, I would like a word with you."

Harry cringed as he heard this. That could be bad. Very bad. More than likely some matter of the conversation would reach the people he didn't want it to. He nodded carefully, and began to gather up the fangs. "Just as long as he doesn't try to magic anything out of me. That would be disastrous."