Forgetting Our Places

    Harry pushed his lips against Cho’s; wasn’t he supposed to be feeling something? Other than mild discomfort, that is. He certainly felt that. He let out a groan of frustration. Unfortunately, Cho interpreted this as a groan of pleasure, and began to pry his lips apart with her tongue. Gross, he thought mildly, trying not to gag. Over his shoulder he caught a glimpse of a group of students, sniggering rather impolitely in his direction. One of them particularly caught Harry’s eye. He closed his eyes and blocked out the sensation of Cho, tried just to think of the sheer contact of flesh on flesh. That was a little better.

    He knew in his soul that it wasn’t Cho’s fault--she just happened to be the wrong gender. Harry knew of Muggles who were homosexual, but he hadn’t known of any Wizards. Then again, it wasn’t something people were always open about, right? He’d asked Hermione--if nothing else, she’d read about it. She assured him that all manner of creatures can be gay, and that there’s nothing wrong with it.

    But Harry really did like Cho--she was pretty, and a good Quidditch player. A bit on the weepy side, but certainly not horrible. It was just that Harry wanted someone else entirely. He raised a hand to Cho’s dark hair and instinctively thought of lighter hair, of paler skin, of more expressive eyebrows---

    Stop it. he commanded himself. No more sodding daydreams about Draco Malfoy!

    “Nice technique, there, Potter!” Draco called towards him. He felt his face go red and pulled away from Cho, who now had tears in her eyes. Fantastic.

********

    Draco watched the whole scene unfold with mild disgust--and mild interest, he admitted to himself. He’d certainly done his fair share of snogging--what else was Pansy good for--but he’d never quite felt anything. And judging from Potter’s wooden performance with Cho, he wasn’t feeling much either. Draco tried not to allow his hopes to rise, but they did. Potter couldn’t be gay. That was just his imagination. He didn’t want to be the only one. It wasn’t really that he wanted Potter.

    Was it?

********

    Potions was an uncomfortable experience that day, as Snape had caught Cho and Harry and deducted house points from them both, and Draco had laughed himself silly. Now they all sat in the same room, Snape, Harry, and Draco--what a threesome. Hermione was throwing nervous glances at Harry, but he was managing to keep his cool, determinedly looking anywhere but at Draco. It was getting a bit hard, as Draco kept enchanting notes to fly Harry’s way. Harry decided not to open any of them, but discreetly pocketed them all. His robes crinkled as they all got out of their seats to head for their workstations. Harry gave a frustrated sigh and sat on a stool next to Hermione, who was already halfway through preparations.

    “Ron had the right idea, giving up Potions,” he said for the millionth time. For the millionth time, he received a withering glare from Hermione. He began to chop his raven beak into even slices, concentrating all his energy on cracking through the hard material. Ron had decided a career path for an Auror would never work out for him--even after Harry pointed out that if Tonks could do it, he definitely could. Hermione correctly recognized that Ron didn’t want the same career as Harry. So Harry and Hermione had continued with Potions--Harry for Auror training, and Hermione just because. She had dropped Ancient Runes and was considering a job similar to Arthur Weasley’s--she did know a lot about Muggles, coming from a family of them. She didn’t need Potions for that, Harry noted, but she seemed somehow…attached to the class.

    “Hey, Potter,” came a whisper from a few stations down. Harry turned his attentions fully back to the raven beak, which was now nearly finished. He grabbed frog eyeballs and began to squeeze them methodically. He wouldn’t play his games. He would just work on his potion. “Potter.” Squeeze, squeeze. “Hey, Potter!” Harry looked up and gasped, Hermione had fallen to the floor beside him. His eyes found Draco’s which didn’t look concerned, but smug, “Your partner seems to have fainted,” he said wryly. Professor Snape wafted over, looking a bit concerned. “Potter, did you happen to let one of your raven beak clippings hit your partner?” he asked silkily. Harry looked down at Hermione, who seemed to have something embedded in her forehead.

    “uh… maybe?” he answered, looking down with shame.

    “Very well. Ten points from Gryffindor for such carelessness. Potter, Malfoy, escort Miss Granger to the hospital wing.”

******

    “Sometimes I wish they didn’t teach Potions at this school,” Madam Pomfrey complained as Harry carried Hermione in. Malfoy lingered in the doorway, not terribly interested in Madam Pomfrey’s discovery. After all, it had been Draco who had levitated a piece of beak into her forehead. Snape always wanted to irritate Potter, and sending him to the hospital wing with me would certainly do that. That Sorting Hat is right about us. We’ll use any means to achieve our ends.

    As Harry worriedly stood by Hermione, dodging Madam Pomfrey’s swats, a sinister smile crossed Draco’s face. We’ll just see how straight Potter really is, he thought. He would need a few hours and a hell of a story, but… he thought he could manage it.

*

    “Veritaserum, Mr. Malfoy? You expect me to give a student a Ministry controlled substance?”

    “It’s very important, sir. A matter of Slytherin honor,” Draco said, positively oozing. Snape loved a suck-up. Apparently not enough to risk his job, though.

    “Mr. Malfoy, there are multiple ways to get a person to admit the truth. You hardly have the skill or the position to use Veritaserum.”

    Draco sighed in frustration and smoothed his hair. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” he asked. Snape gave a slight smirk.

    “That, Mr. Malfoy, is none of my concern,” he answered smoothly, opening his office door and gesturing Draco out. To Draco’s surprise, Hermione Granger stood on the other side of the door, hand raised as if preparing to knock. Snape took in a sharp breath but recovered nicely. “Were you all given special instructions to irritate me today?” he wondered aloud.

    “Don’t we irritate you every day?” Hermione asked, grinning slightly. Then, shock of all shocks--Snape grinned back. Deciding that the last thing he wanted to think about was anything involving Snape and Granger, Draco shook his head and walked away quickly. Now what? How am I supposed to get Potter to tell me if he’s gay?

*******

    Harry lay uncomfortably in bed that night, fighting a little problem that seemed to be, hmmm… arising. He tried to think of all the most unsexy things on the planet--Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day. Hagrid. Dumbledore. McGonagall. Filch. All of them, bodies entwined in the shapes of the Kama Sutra.

    Nothing is working! He swore as his erection only became more insistent. Snape. Think of Snape. That seemed to work a little. Maybe I’m not gay. I mean, certainly if I were gay, Snape would turn me on. It must just be Draco… its just that blonde hair and those eyes… oh gods those eyes…

    Without realizing it, Harry had begun stroking himself. Whoops. he thought as he suddenly reached his climax. Reaching for his wand, he did a simple scourgify to clean himself and the sheets. He rolled over, cheeks burning, hoping no one had noticed.

********

    Draco was luckier. He had Pansy to bring him off while he thought idly of Potter. Perhaps it was his fame, perhaps his undisputable talent at all things--well, except for Potions, he thought with a bit of a smile. It felt good to be better than him at something, after all. Even if his advantage was probably only being in the professor’s house.

    The sight of Harry Potter on a broomstick was something to behold, he mused as he stroked Pansy’s hair. His grip was firm, his moves graceful and above all confident. When Potter was riding the wood, Potter knew what he was doing.

    Oh gods, Draco. Innuendos again? He had come no closer to devising a plan to find out Potter’s orientation, but figured he just might have to do it the Malfoy way--intimidate him into telling the truth.

********

    “Oh, great, we’re getting a visit,” Ron grumbled as the trio sat outside under a tree. Draco Malfoy was ambling their way, seemingly admiring the scenery along the path, looking everywhere but at the people he was approaching. Harry leapt to his feet in excitement. Ron gave him a curious look, Hermione sported a knowing smile. He almost told her it wasn’t what she thought, but didn’t feel like further piquing Ron’s curiosity.

    “A word, Potter,” Draco said casually, gesturing for Harry to lead the way. Harry walked as far away from Ron and Hermione as possible; until Ron’s hair was barely even visible.

    “What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked, trying to seem angry or hateful, but failing miserably. Draco’s smirk widened.

    “Oh, I heard a nasty rumor about you, Potter. I just wanted to see if it was true,” he smiled. Harry’s face began to turn red as Draco started to lean in.

    A little closer… I can almost smell you, Harry found himself thinking. As if he had spoken the words aloud, Draco scooted closer, leaving Harry overwhelmed by some sort of hygiene product smell--cologne, hairspray, hair gel, something of the sort. It was very pleasant. Harry immediately began to worry about how he smelled--he had showered the night before, but it was a warm day and he and Ron had been a little active earlier, chasing Crookshanks around the common room. Maybe he smelled like body odor.

    More to the point, what if his breath was bad? He’d had bacon and toast for breakfast; that couldn’t smell good five hours later. Draco’s breath was only slightly blowing across his face, but it smelled like cinnamon. Harry found himself licking his lips.

    Draco, too, licked his lips, then completed the lean-in and pushed his lips very, very timidly against Harry’s. Is this really happening? It can’t be. It’s too good---it can’t be real. Stop daydreaming, Harry. But as something began stirring below deck, Harry had to admit that, yes, it was happening.

********

    Well, well, well. I guess its confirmed then--Potter is gay. What a glorious moment this is. Draco pushed his mouth a little more insistently against Harry’s, and was rewarded in kind. Harry snaked his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling him in a little tighter. Draco was several inches taller, and found that he was forced to bend a little to meet Harry at his level. To be honest, it was giving him a bit of a crick in his neck.

    He straightened and reluctantly--very reluctantly--pulled away from Harry. “Maybe we should go somewhere private?” Draco suggested. Even to his own ears, his voice was low and, well, husky--he sounded positively hot. I’d shag me.

    “Yes, private. I know a good place,” Harry said urgently. Draco smiled happily--this was going perfectly. It all seemed a bit unrealistic, to be truthful--but who cared? He was about to shag the Golden Boy!

******

    Room of requirement, I have never needed you more. Draco Malfoy is going to shag me, and this could be the greatest day of my life. Don’t fail me now.

    “In here,” Harry said quietly as the door appeared. Draco looked a little confused, but all emotion melted away as he took in the sight before him. This had to be the most luxurious room he had ever seen. There was a huge four poster bed, draped in elegant black silk bedsheets. Two large armchairs sat by a fire which burned low, casting a dim but altogether romantic light across the room. “All that’s missing is a bear skin rug,” he joked, and nearly screamed when one suddenly materialized, right in front of the fire.

    Harry laughed. “Anything you want in this room is yours, Draco,” he said heavily, looking fondly at the bed. Draco smiled. “There’s plenty of time for that, Potter,” he chided.

    “Anything you say, Malfoy,” Harry countered, his voice verging on flirtatious.

    Draco sat in one of the armchairs and found it immediately adjusted itself to custom fit his butt. “Well, that’s….”

    “A bit discomfiting, I know. At least, it is when you stand up and note how your arse is really shaped.”

    “Oh yeah? Are you saying there’s something wrong with the way my arse is shaped?” Draco asked demurely. Harry turned red and spluttered, “well… no, of course… not like I’ve ever noticed or anything, but really, it’s just fine.”

    An awkward silence fell between the two. Harry was half-considering asking the room to produce a noose with which he could hang himself, but Draco suddenly started laughing--a warm laughter, nothing like Harry had heard from him before.

    “We’re in quite a situation, aren’t we?” he asked snidely. “I mean, here I am, half-in-love with the famous Harry Potter. Such is my lot in life, I guess.”

    “Is it really so terrible?” Harry asked bitingly. “At least I’m a decent person. I’m half in love with the biggest arsehole in the school, save Snape.”

*******

    Draco’s heart sank a little when Harry admitted he thought him an arsehole. Well, you are really, he reminded himself. It didn’t change anything though--he’d hoped Potter would be more gullible, would think him kind and sweet and caring. Draco’s mind was trying to fit too many thoughts in, and his penis decided it was high time to interfere. As Draco sat gazing idly at Potter’s smooth face, his clear green eyes standing out against the shock of black bangs, he felt himself begin to be aroused. Ah, well, who cares what he thinks of me? He’s hot. Draco leaned across the small gap between chairs and kissed Harry again, slightly rougher this time, testing his limits. He pushed his tongue against Harry’s closed lips, they parted slowly, allowing Draco to savor the sensation of having Harry yield to him. His lips were rougher than he’d imagined, probably from being perpetually chapped; flying in the wind. His skin was rough, too, clear but rough. Draco ran one finger down Harry’s cheek, marveling at the contradiction. His skin was so white, so creamy, and then to feel so… well, manly--it took Draco by surprise.

    To feel Harry’s calloused hand on his own face was like paradise--Draco’s skin was as soft as it looked. He spared no effort or expense ensuring that his body was well-kempt. A Malfoy must always look good, as his father always said. Okay, Draco, as you are snogging Harry Potter, the last thing you need to be thinking about is your father. He focused again on Harry, moving his hands a little lower, brushing his shoulders, which were solid, if a bit skinny. His upper arms followed the same pattern; solid to the touch but not bulky. Draco found himself fumbling with the clasp of Harry’s cloak, trying to push it off of him. Harry helped him a little, wiggling the cloak to the floor. Harry then returned the favor by removing Draco’s outermost layer of robes. Suddenly they were both standing, walking towards the bed, shedding their outer vestments as they went.

*****

    This is slightly more comfortable. They were now sitting on the edge of the bed, still gently kissing and keeping all hands above deck. But Harry was beginning to tire of Draco’s mouth on his mouth, and began to think of all the other, much more delicious places that mouth could be…

    “Draco?” he whispered, pulling away to stare the other boy directly in the face. “Perhaps… we ought to move this along, then.”

    Draco sat very still for a long few minutes. Apparently some important battle was taking place within that blonde head. His brow furrowed and he was gently chewing his bottom lip. Harry looked away; that motion was not making things go any easier for him. It again brought lovely images of things Harry had only ever read about--well, there was that one time that Ron had tried his best to describe what Luna had done to him, but between his stammering and his uncontrollable laughter, it was hard to understand. Besides, Harry imagined things would be a slight bit different for him and Draco, given that they were both in possession of the same appendage.

    “All right, Potter. Just--I’m only a bit--”

    “Nervous?” Harry finished with a kind smile. “What, do you fancy me as some sex god? I’ve barely even wanked,” he admitted. Draco laughed.

    “Well, I’ve done a fair amount of that,” he said. Harry turned a bit red and then remembered that this was hardly the time to be embarrassed. He had to get comfortable with his body. That doesn’t sound like much fun at all. Suddenly he felt Draco’s hands on his shoulders, pushing him roughly onto his back. Draco lay heavily on top of Harry. This is rather more comfortable. He ran a slightly trembling hand down Draco’s back and on a whim gave his arse a light slap. Draco moaned and pushed against Harry, who all of a sudden could feel Draco’s erection, a bit larger than he had anticipated, pressing into his thigh.

    “Well, well. Someone likes force,” Harry teased. Draco buried his head in Harry’s shoulder, suddenly biting him. “Ow!” he cried, pushing Draco away.

    “What’s wrong? You can defeat You-Know-Who but you can’t take a little love nip?” he asked with a sardonic smile. Harry returned the smile and pulled Draco back to him.

    “Besides,” he murmured against Harry’s chest, “what’s the fun of a fuck without a little foreplay?”

********

    I’ve always been crude. But that was a bit forward, even for me. Realizing it was too late to do anything about it, Draco positively possessed Harry’s mouth, pushing his entire tongue inside his mouth, drawing Harry’s tongue out, twirling their tongues together, doing a forbidden dance, feeling things he’d never felt. As they kissed, Draco allowed his hands to wander rather farther south, rubbing, pushing his own groin against Harry‘s, oh that was rather nice--until Harry pulled away.

    “I have to sneeze,” Harry explained. Draco sneered a little. This was his fantasy night, and Potter had to sneeze. Figures. Harry found a box of tissues on the nightstand, and proceeded to make nine different wild animal calls while blowing his nose. Draco looked down at his hands in disgust--and also… well, he didn’t mind, really. It seemed, somehow, intriguing, that Potter blew his nose. Okay, Draco, you’ve officially lost it. St. Mungo’s time.

******

    Could this be any more embarrassing? I mean, really. Blowing my sodding nose in front of Draco the Sex God Malfoy? Harry wiped the remains of his endeavor from his nose and threw the tissue in the waste bin. He looked awkwardly at Draco. How to go back to snogging someone who has just watched you blow fifteen years of snot from your nose? “Don’t be embarrassed about it, Harry,” Draco said finally, as the silence grew overbearing. “We all have snot, right?”

    “Right,” Harry said, still feeling a bit awkward. Draco stood up and wandered to the fireplace, over which a mirror had suddenly appeared. Harry snickered at the idea that Draco had been thinking how he needed a mirror… how could he ever doubt his looks? He was definitely gorgeous. A bit of a jerk, really. Well, a lot of a jerk, actually. But very hot nonetheless…

*********

    Draco was checking his reflection carefully when he felt lips on the back of his neck. A shiver went down his spine and he couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped at that moment. Potter’s lips on his neck… was this a dream? “This makes no sense, you know,” he whispered. He felt Harry stiffen.

    “What doesn’t?” he asked waspishly.

    “We’re supposed to hate each other, Potter. Since you brushed off my friendship from the very beginning… since you opted for blood traitors and muggle-borns, since you defeated my dad’s chum several times now…”

    “Since you take every opportunity to offend me or one of my closest friends. Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, even Dumbledore once or twice. Of course I should hate you.”

    “So… why don’t you?” Draco asked, feeling a bit vulnerable. He knew he had never hated Potter, just seen him as something of a nuisance--a natural competitor. Someone to try to be better than, and to be jealous of in the meantime. He did hate Granger--he’d hate any Mudblood who was better than him at subjects she had no business studying. He wasn’t overly fond of Weasley, he wouldn’t pretend otherwise--their families were rivals. But Potter was something special. And Draco didn’t want to hear him say that he did hate him.

    “I suppose because…” Harry started after several minutes. Draco’s heart beat violently into his throat. “well, because you can’t really help being the way you are. Your dad has put a lot of that stuff in your head… and besides, nobody’s perfect. I hate people, too. But I guess mostly it’s because I don’t see people as good and evil--I don’t think it’s that simple.” Harry cast his eyes downward and his breathing hitched for a second. “Sirius never forgave a lot of people for a lot of things--and look what it landed him. He died fighting a battle that he shouldn’t have been anywhere near--because he felt he needed to prove himself. And now that I know…the truth about what has to happen… I mean, I have to die. And I don’t really fancy spending the remainder of my life bottling up anger and hatred. Not when there’s better stuff to be had,” he finished, his voice slightly raspy. Draco, to his shock, felt moved by this little speech.

    “Come here… Harry,“ he said, pulling Harry in to him, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. His breath was warm against the bare flesh of his neck, and Draco knew that no matter what else happened tonight, things would never be quite the same between him and Harry Potter.