Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

A Muggle poet named Tennyson once wrote that in springtime, "a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." Well, it was certainly springtime, a glorious May Saturday in fact, but Harry Potter's thoughts were more immediately affixed on the prospect of shagging one Draco Malfoy. It was a deliciously secret liaison, and a quite constructive way, they felt, to work off almost seven years of fierce antipathy. And of course it didn't hurt that the sex was phenomenal.

The biggest challenge they faced--other than the initial period of getting past their mutual bone-deep hatred, naturally--was finding suitable locations in which to expend their adolescent energies. It was difficult sometimes to find mutually convenient times to meet, and even more difficult to find spaces where they wouldn't be caught. The Astronomy Tower was definitely off-limits, as everyone knew that was where canoodling couples sought private time. If Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were to be seen there together...well, the scandal would rock Hogwarts to its foundation. So the boys were forced to seek out less obvious locales. This was further complicated by the fact that Draco craved locational variety, and thus insisted on finding new spots every time they got together. So far they'd enjoyed various storage rooms, Hagrid's hut, the Owlery, and the Potions classroom, among numerous other places, and Harry couldn't help thinking they were going to run out of options soon. But, he figured, that was Draco's problem. He did fear, however, that Draco was becoming more reckless in his choices of trysting spots. Last time, Harry had absolutely drawn the line at breaking into Snape's office...perversely exciting though the idea had been.

Yesterday the boys had made plans to meet "accidentally" this afternoon in a shadowy alcove near the library, so now Harry was preparing to steal away from Gryffindor Tower. Alone for the moment in the seventh-year boys' dormitory, he remembered to grab his Invisibility Cloak, concealing it under his clothes, then headed down the stairs and out the portrait hole...where he promptly ran into Hermione Granger.

She just managed to hold onto the stack of hefty tomes she'd hoisted under one arm, and put out her other hand to steady Harry, laughing. "Where's the fire?"

He pushed his glasses back up his nose and grinned wryly. "Sorry, Herm."

"Oh, hey, Harry, as long as I've caught you here, I...well...I wanted to ask you a question." She bit her lip, then lowered her voice. "This is rather embarrassing."

Harry groaned inwardly, knowing he was already going to be late for his assignation with Draco, but unable to refuse to listen to Hermione. "What's the problem?"

She glanced up and down the corridor, then used the hand that had remained on Harry's arm to steer him a discreet distance away from any portraits that might be listening in. "Well, all right, it's this." She took a deep breath. "I've decided I need to seduce Ron."

Harry choked. "What?"

Her brows drew together. "Well, he's such a great lummox, I don't think he's ever going to make a move. I've been waiting over three years, and I've about run out of patience."

He still hadn't gotten over her initial declaration. "You're going to seduce Ron?"

"Not so loud!" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. "Yes," she whispered, "I want to seduce Ron." A sudden, stricken expression crossed her features. "You don't think he's not interested, do you? I thought I'd picked up on all the signs...."

"No, no, yeah, he's definitely interested." Harry couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"So what do you think I should do?"

"Do?" he echoed.

"To seduce Ron. I mean, I know you wouldn't have any experience in seducing boys"--Harry felt his ears turn pink--"but you know Ron better than anyone else. What do you think might work?"

Harry was flustered. It wasn't like Hermione to ask for advice about anything; that she did so now indicated the depth of her nervousness. But all he could think about was catching up with Draco. "Just...just ask if you can touch his wand."

In her surprise, she lifted her hand from his sleeve. "What?" Her expression clearly said, "If that's the best seduction technique you have to offer, it's no bloody wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

"No, really," he said, starting to back away. "I mean, there's a very...intimate sort of connection between a guy and his wand...."

Hermione's eyes started to gleam. "I think I can work with that. Wait," she said, finally noticing that he was inching down the corridor, "where are you going?"

"Er...library. Gonna work on my, er, Transfiguration assignment."

She was puzzled. "But it's Saturday. You never do work on Saturday unless I force you to."

"Maybe you're just a good influence on me."

She gave him a wry look, showing just what she thought of that excuse.

"I have to go. I'll see you later!" He turned away and started to run.

"Harry, wait-!"

"Good luck with Ron!" he called over his shoulder, and she sank back against the wall, clutching her books, suddenly all nerves.

* * *

Harry skittered through the corridors of Hogwarts, knowing he was late, knowing Draco would be annoyed and impatient. He sighed as he skirted the entrance to the library and waved vaguely at Ginny Weasley, who was just going inside. He darted around the corner and ducked into the shadows behind an enormous stone pillar. Lean, elegant hands grasped his arms, and then he was kissed soundly.

"You're late, Potter."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I ran into Hermione."

Draco chuckled. "Then I'm surprised you weren't later. How did you get away?"

"Told her I was going to the library to work on Transfiguration homework." Draco's eyes lit up, and Harry had seen that look too often not to know what it meant. "No. No, no, no. We are not shagging in the library, and that's it."

"Of course not, you silly git," Draco replied indulgently. "Transfiguration. We haven't tried McGonagall's classroom yet."

Harry was already shaking his head. "I think I heard the second years' Dueling Club meets there on weekends."

"But you don't know for certain?"

"Well...no...."

"That's that, then." Draco grabbed Harry's arm and began to pull him down the hall, Harry sputtering protests all the way.

When they reached the door to the Transfiguration classroom, Harry stepped in front of Draco and put his hands out. "I don't think this is a very good idea. We could walk right into the middle of a wizard's duel."

Draco quirked a single blond brow. "You really think second years know enough magic to do you serious harm? How very"--his lips curled in a slight sneer--"Gryffindor of you."

Harry scowled but lowered his hands, ignoring Draco's triumphant smirk. "All right, fine then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Draco merely brushed him aside and swung the heavy door open on its magically silent hinges. There were no second-year students present, no opposing wands, no spells flying to and fro. What there was, was a pair of stark-white buttocks moving rhythmically, with a pair of thin, bony legs crossed over them, as two individuals performed something other than Transfiguration on Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Well," Draco drawled, "this doesn't look like a wizard's duel to me."

The sound of his voice startled the two figures on the desk, and both turned to face the open door. Harry saw Draco's jaw drop, as he knew his own had.

"Father?" gasped Draco.

"Professor McGonagall?" gasped Harry.

"Fuck," said Lucius.

"Well, that's one word for it," Draco muttered.

Professor McGonagall shrieked and hung onto Lucius, trying to hide behind his bigger frame as he sought to disentangle himself. "Wait...Minerva...stop it...I need to...." She continued to cling like a burr, whimpering, and at last he shouted, "Just let me get some clothes on, Minerva! For God's sake!" As he finally succeeded in pushing her away from him, she seemed to recover some presence of mind and swiftly changed herself into a cat, leaping from the desk and tearing out of the room. Draco and Harry hardly noticed she'd left.

Lucius pulled his robes on over his naked body, twitching his shoulders a little. "These robes are itchy when you're not wearing anything underneath," he grumbled, then turned to confront the two boys who were still staring in open-mouthed astonishment.

"Professor McGonagall?" Draco asked, his tone flat with horror.

Lucius shrugged. "We've had a bit of a thing going since I graduated from school. There's just...something...about a dour Scotswoman in tartan robes...."

Draco looked as if he were about to be violently ill. He glanced around, frantic for something to distract him, and his eyes landed on a heap of lacy lavender undergarments. He began to laugh. "I never would have guessed that's what old Professor McGonagall wears under her robes."

Lucius's eyes followed his son's. "Oh, no," he said. "Those are mine."

Draco froze. "Yours?"

"Yes, indeed. Some of my favorites, in fact."

Draco shut his eyes. "My father's a cross-dresser." Then he opened them again and shrugged. "Well, I guess that explains the extra-large pink chenille bathrobe I found in the laundry."

"Don't take that tone with me, young man. I'll have you know your mother thinks I look very fetching in pink. Besides," he said, meticulously smoothing his blond hair back from his temple, "cross-dressing is an ancient and honored Slytherin custom."

Harry had a sudden vision of Snape wearing a green dress and a hat with a stuffed vulture on it, the result of a Riddikulus charm Neville Longbottom had cast on a boggart their third year, and wondered if that seemingly preposterous image had been closer to the truth than any of them had suspected. He shuddered.

"In fact," Lucius continued, "Salazar Slytherin himself was a cross-dresser."

The boys stared at him. Then Draco murmured, "Well, that certainly wasn't in 'Hogwarts, A History.'"

Harry slanted him a skeptical sideways glance. "You've read 'Hogwarts, A History'?"

Draco scowled. "Why is everyone always so bloody surprised by that?" He looked back at his father. "You never told me that, about Slytherin."

"Of course I did," Lucius replied. "You knew all about it. Don't you remember how you begged for a replica of Slytherin's Tiara of Doom when you were six?"

Harry could see color beginning to burn along Draco's cheekbones. "No," he said. He turned and looked at Harry. "No," he repeated fiercely, seeing the grin that twitched at Harry's mouth.

"Nonsense," Lucius said. "You looked adorable. Like a little princess." Harry choked back his laughter. Lucius didn't seem to notice, as he was eyeing the two of them suspiciously. "What are you two doing skulking around anyway?"

"We're trying to find a private room so we can shag each other senseless," Draco answered dryly, still annoyed over the Tiara of Doom revelation.

Lucius glowered. "Don't get smart with me, boy." He turned his sharp eyes on Harry. "What are your intentions toward my son?"

Harry froze, then began to stammer. "I...er...well...I...."

Draco interrupted smoothly. "We're working on a Potions project together." He gave an eloquent shrug. "You know Snape. He gets his jollies from pairing me with Potter."

Lucius drew himself up, somehow managing to look authoritative and even regal as he gathered his lacy underthings. "Just so. We Slytherins are ever cursed with carrying the dead weight of useless Gryffindors. Carry on, then."

Harry's eyes had begun to snap, but he felt Draco lay a surreptitious hand on his arm. "Thank you, sir. We'll just be going now." With that, he tugged Harry back out the door and down the hall to continue their search for a spot conducive to dalliance.

Calmer once they had left Lucius behind, Harry marveled as he and Draco walked down the corridor. "I can't believe you said that to your dad. About shagging, I mean. What possessed you?"

Draco shrugged. "I know my father, and I know he'd never recognize the truth of that if it walked right up to him and danced the hula. Although, come to think of it," he mused, "he might notice it at that. He'd probably want to borrow the grass skirt."

They walked in silence for a few moments, then....

"So," Harry said, "cross-dressing is an ancient and honored Slytherin custom, hm?"

"Don't get any big ideas, Potter," Draco replied. "If you think I'm going to put on a dress and sing Dusty Springfield songs for you in front of the entire school anytime soon, well, you can just keep dreaming."

Harry halted. "Dusty Springfield?"

A hint of red stained Draco's cheeks again. "Oh, just shut up, Harry."

* * *

They'd reached the ground floor after a period of what Harry had thought was aimless wandering, before he realized Draco was actually leading them toward the front door of Hogwarts. "Wait, where are we going?"

"I thought maybe we'd try the Forbidden Forest," Draco said. "I doubt we're likely to run into naked professors there. Then again, who knows what Professor Sprout gets up to on the weekends...?"

Harry stopped in his tracks. "But...I thought you were scared of the Forbidden Forest?"

"Scared?" Draco sneered. "I can't believe you'd even think to use that word in connection with me."

Harry looked doubtful. "But remember, our first year, you ran away screaming when--"

"Look," Draco hastily interjected, "let's just say the only thing I find scary right now is the prospect of not having sex this afternoon. And believe me, you"--he affixed Harry with a sharp look--"will find *me* very scary indeed if that should come to pass."

They walked toward the forest, swinging Harry's Invisibility Cloak over them so as not to be spotted. It was close quarters under the cloak, and by the time they reached a shadowy, sun-dappled patch of woods, their mutual touches had gone rather beyond the point of friendly. Harry flung the cloak off them and pinned Draco against a tree. Their mouths were fused together when they were startled by a voice behind them.

"Shrivelfigs! O frabjous day!"

Harry jerked his head up and saw a black-haired centaur skipping--if a centaur could be said to skip--through the underbrush. The centaur spotted them at the same time, and did a little dance. "O young sirs, I have discovered a trove of shrivelfigs hither! Do come join me, and we shall feast!"

"No thanks," Draco grunted.

"Turning down shrivelfigs? You must be mad!" He stared at them, his eyes bright. "*Are* you mad? We get some strange creatures in this forest."

Harry coughed. "No kidding." He drew away from Draco as the other boy cursed under his breath.

"And...oh! Oh! How delicious! How thrilling!" The centaur looked as if he were about to expire from excitement. "Why, it's flobberworms! A whole colony of them, right here!"

Harry and Draco both grimaced, having gotten their fill of flobberworms in Care of Magical Creatures third year.

"We need to get out of here," Draco muttered.

"I know," Harry whispered.

They began inching away, but the centaur pranced closer. "Why, you're Harry Potter! My cousin Firenze told me all about you!"

"I, uh, yeah." Harry self-consciously brushed his hair over his scar. "You know Firenze, huh?"

The centaur's eyes lit up, and Draco kicked Harry for encouraging the creature. "Yes, indeed! I am Amalfi. So pleased to meet you both." He swept them a bow, then shrieked with joy. The boys jumped. "Why, young Harry Potter!" the centaur exclaimed. "You have beautiful toes! Simply beautiful!"

Harry glanced down at his feet, cursing himself for having worn sandals today. "You're, er, Firenze's cousin, you said?"

"Oh, yes, but he doesn't talk about me much." Amalfi tossed his hair, then leaned closer, as if he were imparting a great secret. "They say I'm the black sheep of the family. But I prefer being called the dark horse!" He brayed with laughter. Harry and Draco looked at each other and shrugged. "But, really, you see," Amalfi went on, once he'd composed himself, "I just have this thing about toes. And flobberworms. And shrivelfigs. Other than that, I'm perfectly normal. For a centaur." With that pronouncement, he bent down to examine Harry's toes again. "Yes, indeed, most beautiful. Quite exquisite, in fact. The only thing more exquisite would be if you had red hair." He sighed. "I do so enjoy the toes of redheads."

Harry saw the wicked glint in Draco's eyes a moment too late, as Draco swung around and pointed his wand in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "Accio a Weasley! Any Weasley!"

Seconds later, Ron Weasley landed with a thump on the ground in front of them.

Harry started to protest, but Draco swirled the Invisibility Cloak over the two of them and hauled Harry away, back through the forest.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione had finally steeled herself for her chosen task. She came down the stairs and hovered in the entryway to the common room, where Ron was playing wizard chess with Seamus Finnigan. "Ron?" she said.

He glanced up, and she didn't think she was imagining the slight flushing of his cheeks as he looked at her. "Yeah, Hermione?"

She leaned against the doorframe. "Could you come up here for a moment? I need your help with something."

Seamus began to laugh. "*Hermione* needs *your* help? She's--" He broke off when he realized he was on the receiving end of deathly glares from both Hermione and Ron. He hunched into his chair. "Well, run along then," he muttered.

Ron followed Hermione up the stairs to the seventh year girls' dormitory, which was empty but for the two of them. "What's the problem, 'Mione?"

She sat down on her bed and crossed her legs, then patted the space next to her. "Here. Have a seat, Ron."

He looked confused and a little apprehensive, but did as she bade. His big frame tilted the mattress so that she slid closer to him. His breathing was slightly erratic, and even more so when she looked up into his eyes, their faces only inches apart. "Ron?" she said.

"Yeah," he croaked.

Her fingers danced across his knee. He shuddered. "Ron," she whispered, "can I touch your wand?"

Suddenly he flew straight off the bed and out the open window. She leapt to her feet and dashed to the windowsill, watching as Ron sailed through the air toward the Forbidden Forest. She slid down to the floor. "Somehow," she murmured, "I don't think that's what was supposed to happen."

* * *

Draco pulled Harry back through the front door of Hogwarts and down the stairs into the dungeons. Harry dug in his heels. "Draco, I have already told you, we are not breaking into Snape's office."

"Yes, yes, I know. You're no fun, Potter, you know that?" He yanked at Harry again. "Come on. We're not going to Snape's office. Or the Potions classroom."

"Then where are we going?"

"My room."

"Wait a minute!" Harry yelled. "Wait just one minute! How do you propose we get in there unnoticed?"

Draco pulled the Invisibility Cloak off and swung around to face Harry. "Easy. *You* are going to wear *this*." He tossed the cloak back over Harry. "Just follow me."

Sighing, Harry did so. It wasn't easy to remain perfectly inconspicuous, though, most of all when Draco gave the password at the stone wall that served as the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory ("Tiara of Doom"). Harry tried to muffle his laughter, and Draco scowled. "I heard that," he muttered over his shoulder.

They slipped through the common room and toward the seventh year boys' dorm. Draco halted in the doorway, so abruptly Harry almost ran into him. Over Draco's shoulder, he could see a couple embracing in the center of the room. One was obviously Crabbe, and the other--whose face Harry couldn't see clearly--was clothed in a repulsive green dress bedecked with ruffles and flounces. Harry was about to assume, based on the figure's stocky size, that this was Millicent Bulstrode, when he heard Crabbe murmur, "Goyle, hold me," as the two boys (as Harry now recognized them) snuggled closer together.

Harry grabbed Draco by the back of his robe and pulled him out of the doorway, propelling him back through the common room and following him out into the hall. Then he tossed off the Invisibility Cloak and roared with laughter as Draco sat down hard, his face frozen with shock.

"A fine old Slytherin tradition," Harry howled.

"Shut up," Draco muttered.

"Goyle, hold me," Harry mimicked.

"Shut UP," Draco said.

Harry shook his head, still laughing. "What is it with you Slytherin boys?"

"Must be the dungeon air," Draco replied, glowering up at Harry, "because sometimes even my own actions are inexplicable to me."

Harry grinned, unceremoniously dragging him to his feet. "Come on, Princess. Let's get out of here."

* * *

Draco was uncharacteristically silent, shuddering occasionally as Harry guided him back upstairs and outside. He spoke up only when he realized Harry was steering him toward the Quidditch pitch. "Where do you think you're going?" he sneered.

Harry tugged him into the empty locker room, locking the door behind them. "Well," he shrugged, "I figured we could get in a bit of Seeker practice."

Draco exploded. "Damn it, Potter, after all we've been through today, you're thinking of Quidditch? Are you completely mad?"

"Hey," Harry soothed, rubbing his hands down the other boy's chest and abdomen, "calm down. Seeking can be a lot of fun, you know...."

"Hmph." Then Draco squirmed. "Er, Harry, I hate to tell you, but...that is most definitely not the Snitch."

Harry's eyes glinted wickedly. "Seek and ye shall find."